


Storm of '56

by Comicbooklovergreen



Series: More than One Kind of Soulmate [10]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Carol (2015), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: 50's Power Couples, And Trios, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Lesbian Sex, Multi, My version of the Martinelli clan, OT3, Stegginelli, mentions of corporal punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-04-16 23:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14175381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicbooklovergreen/pseuds/Comicbooklovergreen
Summary: February 1956. The blizzard of the century devastates New York. Too bad Lizzie Rogers is taking notes, and she doesn't like to be outdone.Two unconventional families form an unbreakable bond. Tracing a friendship and a family through the years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Was going to wait until this was done to post, but I have no self-control. Comments really make the author happy/productive.
> 
> Also, on this Easter day, remember that on Easter of 1955, Steve Rogers accidentally claimed Rindy as his child. As one does to the children of their friends.

“Girls! Rindy, get down here. Tu mammina’s on the phone!”

Rindy raced down the stairs of Ms. Sofia’s house, almost knocking into Lizzie, who grumbled that the game wasn’t over, then said that she would’ve found Rindy in a minute anyway, so she guessed it didn’t matter.

“You’re bad at this game,” Lizzie said, quickly catching up to Rindy.

“Am not!”

“Are too. You always pick the same places.”

Rindy sulked briefly at that. It wasn’t fair, they weren’t playing even. Lizzie knew all the best hiding places at her grandma’s house much better than Rindy did. If Lizzie would just show her some, she wouldn’t have to hide behind the same doors and curtains and tables.

“Why would I do that?” Lizzie asked when Rindy mentioned it. “That’s telling tactics to the enemy.”

Rindy shook her head as she went through Ms. Sofia’s living room, into her kitchen. Lizzie was weird sometimes. “We’re not enemies, you’re my best friend.”

“I know that! It’s only enemies when we’re playing hide and seek, or stuff like it.”

Lizzie was weird sometimes, Rindy thought again as she skidded in her socks on the kitchen tile.

Ms. Sofia held out her hand that wasn’t holding the phone, stopped Rindy falling. “Hey, hey. Easy there, bambina.”

“Everything okay?” Rindy heard Mommy ask, sounding funny and far off through the phone.

Ms. Sofia smiled at Rindy and then moved a little closer to the other part of the phone, attached to the kitchen wall. “Si, the girls are just a little excited. Playing hide and seek. I’m glad you called, good excuse to flush them out.”

Rindy heard Mommy laugh. “Excuse?” Mommy said. “You don’t need one. Rindy’s always been terrible at hide and seek.”

“Mommy!”

“Told you.” Lizzie stuck her tongue out, entered the kitchen a few steps behind Rindy. Lizzie was faster, Rindy had learned, but Aunt Angie and Ms. Sofia both got mad if they tried to race each other down the stairs. Lizzie had let her win.

“Lucky,” Ms. Sofia told Mommy. “Last week, our Elizabeth wedged herself under the sink, behind a bookcase, and in the dryer. Didn’t even know she was missing the last time until I went to do a load of laundry and found her sleeping in there.”

“’sario was supposed to find me,” Lizzie said. “It’s his fault.”

“She fell asleep in a dryer?” Mommy asked.

“Oh she can sleep anywhere. Gets it from daddy, I’m sure. Blessing or curse, depending on the day.”

“I can imagine.”

Ms. Sofia petted at Lizzie’s hair and said that if she wasn’t careful, she’d hide somewhere too small. “And who’ll save you then?”

“Captain Daddy!”

Ms. Sofia laughed. “Well, Captain Daddy’s away right now, so you watch out for our little mole, okay, Rindy?”

“Nonna!”

Rindy giggled and said okay, enjoying Lizzie’s reaction to being called a mole.

“I don’t envy you,” Mommy said. “All I have to do is say ‘Oh no, I can’t find my baby!’ and Rindy pops out from wherever yelling ‘Here I am!’”

“Mommy!” Rindy whined. They were laughing at her now, not Lizzie, and that wasn’t fair.

“You’ve got it easy, Carolina. Speaking of which,” Ms. Sofia handed the phone down to Rindy. “Talk to your mama, sweetheart.”

Rindy took the phone in both hands, brought it to her ear. “Hi, Mommy.”

“There’s my girl! Are you having fun? Being good for Mrs. Martinelli?”

“Yes,” Rindy said.

“She’s always good,” said Ms. Sofia.

“So am I!” Lizzie tugged on her grandma’s dress.

“Of course you are, darling, of course.”

Rindy often got told she was good when she was around Lizzie. And when she wasn’t and they got in trouble, she seemed to get it worse because she was older and supposed to know better and be an example, Mommy said. Which didn’t make sense to Rindy. What did it matter what kind of example she was, or if she was older? Lizzie would just do what she wanted anyway. Rindy liked that about Lizzie most days.

Still, she tried to do what Mommy said. When she went to church this morning with Mama, she was still and quiet because Mama liked her that way in church, and maybe Lizzie would be still and quiet too, if she saw Rindy doing it.

Lizzie still ended up getting plopped in Angie’s daddy’s lap, which Uncle Steve usually did when Lizzie wasn’t behaving, so Rindy guessed her example hadn’t worked.

Rindy liked church. The sitting around and listening to the man talk was boring, but she got to sit with the grownups, next to Mama, and Mama would smile and hold her hand and thank her for being so good. Mommy must think the man talking was boring too, because she never went, so it was a special thing between Rindy and Mama, and that was nice.

The good part came after church. Uncle Steve and Aunt Angie and Lizzie, and a bunch of Aunt Angie’s family would invite them over, usually to Ms. Sofia’s house. And there would be lots of food, and Rindy could take off her fancy church shoes and wrinkle her dress playing with Lizzie, and no one would mind. And usually Mommy came then, with Aunt Peggy and Jacob. Mommy spent time with them until after church was over. Lizzie said she only went to church to get away from Jacob, but she liked playing with her uncles and aunt too. And it was still strange to Rindy, how most of Lizzie’s uncles were barely older than her. Patrizia, the only girl, and her twin Pietro, they were only a year older than Rindy. Rindy couldn’t understand Lizzie’s grandmother having kids who were her age, when Aunt Angie was a grownup.

When Rindy first told Ms. Sofia she wasn’t like a normal grandma, Mommy and Mama scolded her. Ms. Sofia brought her a cookie.

“Did you have fun in the snow?” Mommy asked. “You’re not frozen solid?”

“No!” Rindy giggled. She didn’t think people could really freeze solid, but she’d also heard Daddy say Uncle Steve was just a glorified popsicle in tights. “I made snow angels. We built a snowman. Mr. Angelo borrowed us his hat so we could finish him.”

“He did? That’s very generous, isn’t it? Did you say thank you to Mr. Angelo?”

“Yes, Mommy,” Rindy said, slightly annoyed. Mommy liked to remind her of the same things over and over sometimes. Rindy turned to Ms. Sofia. “Will you tell Mommy I said thank you for the hat?”

“She said thank you for the hat, though I wouldn’t have. That old, ugly thing he’s had since the first war? Hope it blows away in the snow.”

“No, Nonna! Our snowman will be cold then.”

“Everyone will be cold, but okay. He might get buried out there, but I hope your friend keeps his hat. Okay, sweetheart?”

Rindy hoped their snowman wasn’t buried, but it seemed possible. Before church, there hadn’t been all that much snow. The start of a winter wonderland, Miss Lilah would say. At Ms. Sofia’s house after church, still not that much. Then Mommy and Mama said it was time to go home, but they were in the middle of a game and they begged, and Mommy talked to Ms. Sofia, who said that Lizzie was staying the night and Rindy could come home later, it was no trouble. Then later came and lots and lots of snow did too, more snow than Rindy had ever seen. Ms. Sofia had talked to Mommy on the phone, and Mommy asked if Rindy wanted to spend the night, if she’d be okay with that, because the roads were slippery.

Rindy was almost afraid to ask about school, but when she did, Mommy said it was supposed to snow even more and school would probably be closed, and if it wasn’t, Mommy would figure it out in the morning.

“Mommy,” Rindy said. “Can Mama come get me tomorrow, can she bring her camera?” Rindy tried to sound extra nice through the phone. Mama didn’t really like driving in snow, or at night. “I want to take a picture of our snowman to show Daddy when he gets back.”

“I’ll see what I can do, snowflake. Mama might not be able to come, but I can bring her old camera over.”

“Okay. But your pictures aren’t as good as Mama’s.”

“No one’s are.”

“Mommy?”

“Rindy?”

“Is it snowing where Daddy is?”

“I don’t know, baby. I know he misses you very much, and he’ll love your snowman.”

“When’s he coming back?”

“Wednesday, baby, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

She liked being with Mommy while Daddy had his work trip. Liked it much better than being with a nanny or her grandparents all that time. Over a week, which Rindy hadn’t liked at all until Daddy said she could stay with Mommy, if she wanted. Over a week without having to pack her bag to go back to Daddy’s, or feel that not nice tightening in her throat and the butterflies in her stomach whenever she had to hug Mommy and Mama goodbye.

Rindy wished she could be like Lizzie. Lizzie didn’t mind her daddy being gone, said he’d bring lots of gifts for her and play with her lots when he got back. Daddy did that for Rindy too, but she still didn’t like him being away, even if it meant she got Mommy and Mama a whole week. She got the same kinds of big, yucky butterflies in her stomach if she thought about it too much, though Daddy had called this morning, before they left for church, to remind her of what Mommy just had.

Lizzie only shrugged and said her daddy would be back soon. He was always back soon, she said. Rindy almost told about Mommy and how Mommy had been gone such a long time before, she hadn’t come back soon at all. Daddy kept saying Mommy would see her soon, but soon had taken forever.

“Rindy?” Mommy said. “Are you still okay to spend the night? I can come and get you.”

“You said the roads were slippery,” Rindy mumbled. She didn’t want to look at Lizzie, to be a baby when she was supposed to be older and set an example.

“I can come and get you,” Mommy said again.

Rindy thought about it. She liked sleeping at Mommy’s house. She’d slept in Mommy’s room some nights this week, even though that was usually only for nightmares. But Mommy’s bed was bigger, and her room was prettier than Daddy’s, and Mommy would hum to her sometimes as she fell asleep. Daddy wouldn’t do that. He’d tried once, but it wasn’t the same, not pretty like Mommy’s. He was big and strong and good to hide against after nightmares, but he snored. Mama didn’t snore, and didn’t say no if Rindy wanted to sleep next to her. She just made room in the middle and rubbed Rindy’s back, or hair, and sometimes Mommy hummed while she did that and that was best. It made the butterflies go away.

“Can I talk to Mama?”  Rindy twirled the phone cord over her finger.

“Of course you can. Hold on just a second, sweet pea.”

Rindy heard Mommy say something that sounded far away. She looked at the floor. She didn’t want to be a baby.

“Rindy?”

The twisty-turny, butterfly feeling got a little better. “Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, Rindy. How are you doing?”

Rindy liked Mama’s voice. Not in the same way she liked Aunt Peggy’s voice, or Miss Lilah’s. She liked the softness of Mama’s voice, how nice it always was. She’d heard Mommy and Daddy use scary, mean voices with each other. Not Mama though, Mama was always soft. “Good. I made a snow angel.” She thought Mama might like this, since Mommy called her Angel all the time.

“I bet it was very pretty.”

“Yeah. Before Vittore stepped on it.” Lizzie’s uncles were too much like stupid, regular boys sometimes.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah. Lizzie hit him with a snowball anyway. Mama, can you come get me tomorrow?”

“I’ll probably have to work, sweetheart.”

Mama sounded sorry. More sorry than Vittore had about her angel. “Oh.”

“But Mommy will get you. Is that okay?”

Rindy thought about it, how quickly the butterflies disappeared with Mommy and Mama. “She’ll get me tomorrow?”

“If that’s what you want, yes.” The line got staticky for a second. “Mommy says she’ll come and get you tonight if—”

“When tomorrow?” Rindy asked before Mama could finish. She wasn’t a baby and she didn’t want Mama thinking that.

“As soon as the snowplows get working. Is that okay, Rindy?”

Rindy thought about Mama rubbing her back in the big bed. Mama, who’d lived in some kind of church, or school, which Rindy didn’t understand because how could you live in a church? Did the man talk and talk the whole time you lived there? But Mama had, and she hadn’t had a mommy or daddy or anyone. Mommy said Mama was very brave, and Rindy agreed. And this wasn’t like some weird church school. This was Ms. Sofia’s house, and Lizzie was here, and Pietro and Patrizia, and even the older boys Rindy didn’t like as much.

“Yeah, Mama, that’s okay.”

* * *

 “I wish you wouldn’t drink that.”

“I know.” Carol gave Therese an apologetic smile as she poured the rye into her glass.

Therese watched Carol return to the sofa, drink in hand. “Ryes depress you.”

“I know.”

“And then you depress me.”

“I know. Just the one, I promise.”

“Uh-huh.” Therese thought a moment before seating herself on Carol’s lap, covering Carol’s hand on the glass and sipping from it herself.

“What are you doing?” Carol asked, amused now, probably because of the face Therese must be making.

“I hate those,” she said, pushing the glass away after the small sip.

“I know. What are you doing?”

“Less for you to drink, less depression for both of us.”

Carol laughed and kissed her hair, then took a longer drink than Therese had.

“It was nice, having an afternoon to ourselves,” Therese said, skimming her fingertips over the pearls Carol wore to the Martinellis and hadn’t removed yet.

“It was.”

“So what’s wrong?” Therese asked, keeping her voice soft, feeling Carol exhale a breath after she said it.

“She’s so nervous.”

Therese didn’t ask who. “All kids get a little nervous sleeping away from home.”

“No, but it’s more than that, it’s…”

Harge. Harge and what he’d said about Rindy being clingier, more afraid since the divorce. Carol hadn’t wanted to tell her at first, but Therese eventually got the story. “Rindy being, nervous, isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No more than it is his.” Therese breathed, tried not to let her anger at Harge reach Carol. She made herself relax, took another sip, made another face. “Change is scary. She’s, of course she’s going to have a reaction to it, but don’t let him throw all of that on you. Even he knows that’s not fair, not true.” He must, because they’d seen more of Rindy since that day, not less.

Carol sighed again, eyed Therese as she readjusted the hold on her waist. “Was it scary for you?”

“Your divorce?” Therese tried to joke.

“Your mother leaving you at that wretched place.”

Carol’s arm around her tightened and Therese smiled despite the subject. “Not so wretched. Rather nice, as those places go, from what I hear.” Carol made a noise and pinched Therese’s side, and she knew she’d have to give a real answer. “Of course it was. I was eight and my mother…” Therese shrugged, kept herself from taking another sip from Carol’s drink.

“You were eight when she did that to you. Rindy’s not even there yet, she was only four.”

Therese touched Carol’s cheek. “Don’t do that. Don’t, I mean it. There’s no comparison.”

“Your mother turned your world upside-down and I—”

“—made a change that was scary for both you and Rindy. And maybe you’re still working on turning the world right side up for her, but that’s the point. You’re still here, you’re still working at it, and you will for as long as it takes.” Therese took a longer drink of the rye and shuddered. “God. You know what I hate worse than you drinking these things?”

“What?”

“You letting Harge get into your head. Do you know what I hate even more than that?”

“I’m sure I don’t.”

“You letting my mother into your head. There’s a reason she’s not allowed in mine.”

Carol chuckled, kissed Therese softly. “I’m sorry, darling.”

“Don’t be sorry, not for what you’re trying to be sorry for.” Therese stroked a few errant strands of hair behind Carol’s ear. “I can’t say how much the divorce affected Rindy. I don’t have anything to compare, I didn’t know her before. But I know her now, I see her now.”

Carol nodded, watched Therese. “And what do you see?”

“More than you, sometimes. Things I don’t think you always can.”

“Is that so, miss bigshot photographer?”

“It is so.” Therese gave her a scolding look when she drank more of the rye, then continued. “You’re looking at it from certain angles. Some things, you don’t always see, because you’re too close to it.”

“What kinds of things?”

“What a great mother you are. How happy Rindy is. If Harge was trying to tell you that you ruined Rindy by divorcing him…it’s not true, Carol, it’s never been true.”

“You think she’s happy, really happy?”

Therese hated the uncertainty in Carol’s voice, hated Harge for putting it there. Briefly, she hoped his plane would crash getting home. “I know she is.”

“How?”

“Because I wasn’t. I grew up around children who weren’t. It’s, that’s not Rindy. She might be adjusting still to everything that’s happened, but she’s not unhappy, not like that.”

“What is she then, do you think?”

“Nervous, like you said. Adjusting.” Therese brushed Carol’s lips with her own. “Smart. Charming. Funny.” Each word came with a kiss. “Creative. Beautiful. Sweet. Not nearly a prone to brooding, like her mother.”

“Hey!” Carol said, but she was smiling.

Therese let go of the glass, put both arms around Carol’s neck. “Rindy’s a lot of things, Carol, but she’s not unhappy, and you aren’t like my mother.”

“No?”

“You told Rindy you’d come and get her. Would you have, if she asked?”

“Of course.”

“See? Not like my mother at all.”

They were quiet a moment. Carol rested her lips near Therese’s forehead. “Were you very unhappy, my darling?”

Therese gave the answer the consideration it deserved, though she knew it in her gut almost instantly. “I suppose. I didn’t realize it though, and that probably helped. For the longest time, I didn’t even know that I wasn’t happy.”

“What changed?”

“You did.”

It was true. Like looking through a filthy, cracked camera lens without knowing what a proper one should be, Therese hadn’t realized how she’d been living until Carol arrived to show her something different. She felt Carol tense and then relax, saw her blink back tears.

“Don’t cry.” Therese was rather shocked by the sudden display. She swiped her thumb just under Carol’s eye to chase moisture there.

“Well don’t make me cry, damn you,” Carol said on a watery laugh.

“It’s the rye, I keep telling you to quit the damn rye.” Therese laughed herself as Carol drew her in close.

“That you do. Tell me, what right do you have to be so brilliant and so young at the same time?”

Therese blushed, pressed her warm cheek against the softness of Carol’s shirt. She never knew what to say when Carol said things like that, so stayed quiet. She listened to the thrum of Carol’s heart, the clink of ice in the glass Carol still held, but no longer drank from. The wind blustered outside, covering their balcony and everything else with snow. Therese was distinctly aware of how warm, how content she was right this minute. She wondered who was living in her old apartment now, if her landlady ever fixed the loud, ancient furnace that worked, but not especially well, not on nights like this. She felt selfish elation that it wasn’t her problem anymore, never would be again.

“Carol?”

“Hmm?”

“I love Rindy.”

“I’m very, very glad. Thank you for letting me know.”

Therese ignored the amused drawl in Carol’s voice, hiding her own smile against Carol’s chest. “I love having her here, for more than a day or two.”

“So do I.”

Therese loved that Rindy called her Mama, never mind the initial terror of that. She loved that, hopefully, she could help Carol turn Rindy’s world right side up again. “I love her, but I also love our bed being _our_ bed.” She loved Rindy’s small body near hers, how earnest she was when she asked to snuggle in between them, she loved the side of Carol that came with Rindy’s presence in their room. She also desperately missed Carol, and the feeling of Carol against her without clothes between them. “Is that terrible?”

The briefest of pauses, and then Carol laughed, fully. “No, my love, no. Not terrible at all.”

“Well, since Angie’s parents have her for the night—hey!”

Therese was left shrieking and laughing as Carol made a rather rushed, awkward attempt to take her to bed. She’d perched the offensive drink perilously close to the edge of their antique coffee table, a table Carol’s knee knocked into as she moved.

“Carol!” Therese laughed, because Carol was only ever this playful, this ridiculous when she wasn’t dreading saying goodbye to Rindy again, or the next battle with Harge. “You’re going to spill all over the carpet!”

“Fuck the carpet.”

Therese laughed all the way down the hall and into the bedroom.

* * *

 “Alright, lovelies. Bedtime. Lizzie, don’t keep Rindy up all night talking.”

Lizzie huffed and told Ms. Sofia she wouldn’t, and Rindy told Ms. Sofia she wasn’t tired anyway.

“You are too tired. I say you’re tired.”

She said this with a wink while pulling the covers over Rindy and Lizzie. They were in Patrizia’s room, in the bed where her twin usually slept, but he was sleeping with the other boys tonight. Ms. Sofia promised the bed didn’t have too many boy cooties.

Whatever she’d said, Rindy was glad Ms. Sofia had said something to Lizzie, even if she didn’t think it would matter. Lizzie was funny about snow. They’d played and played and played in it after their parents left, until Mr. Angelo brought them in. He told Rindy she looked like the tomatoes Ms. Sofia was chopping up for dinner because her nose was so red.  Lizzie looked the same as always to Rindy, even though she’d rolled in the snow more, made more angels than Rindy had.

Rindy knew what coming in out of the snow meant, no matter where she was staying. It meant grownups hurrying her out of wet clothes, and it meant hot baths, and hopefully hot cider or something. It could be a little hard getting out of snow clothes, especially since some of the ones Rindy used had once been Patrizia’s and didn’t fit her just right, but she managed. Lizzie was funny though. She had to be taken out of her snow clothes, almost like baby Jacob. She got so sleepy she didn’t even want to take off her boots. Ms. Sofia gave them hot chocolate with marshmallows, and Lizzie had almost fallen asleep in hers instead of drinking it. She’d curled up on the couch after her bath and slept a long time, and Rindy would’ve been bored to death if she didn’t have the twins to play with, if Mr. Angelo hadn’t shown her how to do card tricks while Lizzie was sleeping. She couldn’t wait to show Mommy and Mama, and Daddy when he came back.

Well, now it was bedtime and Rindy’s eyes hurt a little, but Lizzie was waking up again, and Lizzie would be all twisty-turny in the bed and Rindy would have to stay up with her. But she could do it, she wasn’t that tired.

Ms. Sofia went to a little basket on Patrizia’s side of the room, full of the stuffed animals that didn’t fit on her bed. She held up a lion and a polar bear, one in each hand. “You want to borrow one, Rindy?”

Rindy smiled and chose the polar bear. He reminded her of the snow outside. Lizzie had one of her Captain America stuffies, but Rindy hadn’t known she was staying over, so hadn’t brought Dumbo. She missed him and his soft fur and big, floppy ears. He was a gift from Mama, back when she was Aunt Therese, and Rindy slept with him at Daddy’s house too, because it reminded her of Mommy’s, and Mommy said she should squeeze him tight if she ever got sad and missed her other home. Rindy wished she’d had Dumbo back when Mommy was gone forever.

The polar bear was okay for one night though. He was soft, and it was nice of Patrizia to let her borrow him. She took him from Ms. Sofia and Ms. Sofia asked if they needed anything else. Rindy didn’t think so. She’d already said goodnight and love you to Mommy and Mama before giving the phone back, and then Lizzie had said goodnight and love you to Aunt Angie. And she’d asked about Jacob, even though she pretended he was the yuckiest thing ever. Then before Aunt Angie hang up, Rindy had said to give her love to Peggy and Jacob, because that’s how she’d heard Mommy and Mama say it on the phone. Aunt Angie had laughed then.

“Right back at you, Rin. See you later, Lost Girls, alright? Love you.”

Aunt Angie called them Lost Girls sometimes, because Aunt Angie was Peter Pan and could fly like Dumbo, and one day, Rindy would convince Mommy to let Aunt Angie teach her how to fly. Everyone said there was an ‘incident’ when Lizzie did it, but Rindy didn’t care. She was bigger and older and would set an example, fly properly.

When Lizzie said she didn’t need anything else except to stay up longer and Ms. Sofia said no, Ms. Sofia hugged and kissed Lizzie. Then she put a kiss on her fingertips and touched Rindy’s forehead before going to Patrizia.

Rindy wondered as Ms. Sofia left if Lizzie knew how great her grandmother was. Rindy loved Grandma Jennifer too, but she liked it best when Rindy played quietly with whatever new toys she and Grandpa gave her. Ms. Sofia said it was funny and not right when kids were too quiet, and only told them not to scream the paint off the walls, whatever that meant. Grandma only let Rindy play tea party with empty cups, not the real kind Aunt Peggy used. Ms. Sofia said they’d burn themselves with real tea, but she gave them juice and cookies.

“Lizzie?” Rindy said while Lizzie was already tossing the blankets and saying what they’d do tomorrow.

“Huh?”

“Your grandparents are the best.” Rindy decided she could no longer keep it to herself. Mr. Angelo was a little quieter than Ms. Sofia, just a little, but he would get on the floor and play games, and teach Rindy card tricks while Lizzie abandoned her for a nap. She loved her Grandpa John too, but he didn’t know any card tricks that Rindy knew about, and he mostly just read the paper.

“I know. They can be yours too, if you want. There’s always kids here, they won’t mind another.”

“I already have grandparents,” Rindy said, feeling a little bad about her disappointment.

“So? You can always have more. I’d have three pairs if Daddy’s weren’t in heaven already, and you have three parents. And Aunt Therese doesn’t have parents, so you have space for extra.”

Lizzie really was smart sometimes. Rindy would’ve said, but Lizzie was already back to their adventure plans tomorrow, before they had to go home. Rindy yawned and thought of the snowman with Mr. Angelo’s hat. She hoped he wasn’t buried in the morning. They’d have to dig him out if he was, Rindy thought. To make sure he was okay, and to take a picture for Daddy.

It was the last thing Rindy thought before falling asleep, her arm around Patrizia’s bear, Lizzie’s voice still in her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who commented so far, more comments/kudos are always better, and I am...slightly, kind of sorry for being the way I am.

This, Rindy thought with delight, this was a real Winter Wonderland, the kind Mommy who liked snow or Miss Lilah who liked that song would love.

They’d woken up to even more snow. The radio said it was the biggest blizzard in forever, and Ms. Sofia told Rindy that Mommy might not be here for awhile. Rindy didn’t mind that at all. Mommy would come when she could, she’d promised. Anyway, all the schools were closed, so Rindy got to sleep in and then have more adventures with Lizzie until Mommy got there.

She felt funny in so many winter clothes that weren’t hers, but Ms. Sofia said she’d get sick if she only wore what she’d brought yesterday. They kept her warm anyway, even if they didn’t fit just right. Lizzie kept getting rid of things, her gloves and hat and scarf, saying she wasn’t cold. She’d throw them somewhere in the snow, then one of the older boys would come and make her put them back on again.

There were lots of kids on Miss Sofia’s street. Rindy never saw so many. Daddy’s house was far away from other houses so it wasn’t easy to find people to play with. And Mommy’s building was big and high up with a bunch of doors, but Rindy didn’t know if there were any kids there. She hadn’t seen any.

Here there were kids all up and down, making snowmen like theirs (he did get a little buried) or building forts or throwing snowballs. Lizzie knew most of them, and Rindy was a little mad that Lizzie had so many friends besides her, but didn’t say anything. The other kids came and left, playing games with them before getting called back to their own houses or finding something else to do. Rindy liked most of them. She and Lizzie went looking for polar bears with Patrizia and one of the girls down the street, until the girl said she wanted to go sledding.

Rindy was briefly annoyed with her grandparents. She’d really thought they would get her the puppy she wanted for Christmas. He could’ve pulled them around on a sled like the doggies in Alaska and helped them find polar bears. Instead she’d gotten a big dollhouse, which was nice, and cleaner than a puppy, Grandma said, but not what she’d wanted. Then Grandma asked if Mommy had gotten her anything so nice for Christmas and Rindy told about the Christmas ornament she gave Mommy and Mama, with their names on. She told about Mama crying and getting hugged by Mommy extra tight and called her special girl. She’d told about the things they’d given her, and Grandma hadn’t looked happy.

Rindy was glad she wasn’t at Grandma’s now. She’d have to play in the snow by herself, and that wasn’t nearly as fun. She’d have nothing and no one to throw snowballs at, except for the house, and Grandma really didn’t like it when she threw snowballs at the house.

Plenty of people to have snowball fights with here, even if the one right now wasn’t going so well. They were in front of Miss Sofia’s house playing girls versus boys, and they were losing. There were more of Lizzie’s uncles, and they were bigger. They packed bigger snowballs and threw farther, and Patrizia, much as Rindy like her, was no help at all. Halfway through the fight, she said she was bored and cold and got pelted with snow by her brothers as she ran into the house. Lizzie called her a deserter, then called the boys something in Italian that Rindy was told by Aunt Angie she wasn’t supposed to repeat.

Now it was just the two of them. Pinned down in an epic battle to the death. Or so it would say in the Wonder Woman comics Rindy liked, or the ones with Uncle Steve in them. She wished Uncle Steve was here, or at least his shield. She and Lizzie could charge the boys with it, and the snow would bounce back and hit them, and they would be victors. But he wasn’t and neither was the shield. Lizzie got smacked in the head with a snowball and threw her hat off for the millionth time, then her gloves, saying they messed up her throwing.

Rindy managed to get Francesco in the knee, but Vittore was already targeting her by then. She only sort of dodged it, her throwing arm taking a hit. She finally said what she’d been trying not to. “Lizzie, there’s too many of them!”

Lizzie’s reply was instant. “There’s never too many! Howlies never quit! Reload on ammo, I’ll cover you. Wahoo!” she added throwing hard and hitting Pietro’s shoulder.

Rindy ducked and began forming another snowball. She didn’t know why Lizzie had to keep wahooing every few throws and she didn’t like their odds, but she wasn’t going to be a deserter. She would go down fighting, like all the good people in the comics who weren’t Wonder Woman or Uncle Steve. Mommy would be proud of her, and miss her, and know she’d been a hero.

And then it stopped. Suddenly the battle was ended. Rosario, Lizzie’s uncle who was thirteen or fourteen and very tall even though he wasn’t oldest, yelled at the boys to come over. He’d been in the backyard doing some sort of chores that neither Rindy or Lizzie cared about, and he came around the house holding a shovel and told them to come over.

“We’re busy!” Pietro yelled, a snowball in his hand.

“So? Come here and help me!”

“Papa told you to do it!” said Benny.

“You don’t even know what it is!”

“So! I know Papa told you to do it!”

Rindy wondered if all brothers and sisters yelled this much, if Lizzie would yell at Jacob like this. If she tried it now, he’d only cry and cry. You didn’t have to be very loud at all to make Jacob cry.

The yelling continued for a bit, until the boys’ army grumbled and tromped off to where Rosario was, kicking up snow as they left. Pietro aimed the snowball in his hand at Lizzie, but she dodged it and stuck her tongue out at him, catching snowflakes.

“Want to make another snowman now?” Rindy asked once they were gone.

Lizzie stared at her like her head was funny. “This is war, Private Aird, we don’t got time for snowmen!”

“But the boys left.”

“Doesn’t mean the war’s over.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No! Just means we get to regroup.”

“Oh. What’s that mean?”

Lizzie sighed. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Rindy asked as she followed Lizzie off the lawn and down the sidewalk.

“We’re starting a new plan to beat the boys when they come back.”

That sounded good. Still. “Didn’t your grandma say we’re supposed to stay by your uncles?”

“We are,” Lizzie said, pointing at a house up the street in the direction they were moving. “Zio Luca lives right there.”

Rindy frowned. “You have _more_ uncles?”

“He’s Nonna’s brother.” Lizzie shrugged and pointed again. “And that’s where Zia Maria lives. And Zio Angelo’s over there, when he’s not doing Army things.”

“Is it all Martinellis on this block?” Rindy asked, impressed and amazed.

“Mostly? Nonna’s cousin is up that way, and her sissy lives there too.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

Rindy thought about Daddy’s one sister she saw at Grandma and Grandpa’s sometimes, and Mommy’s one sister who lived far away, and the three cousins Mommy said she had. The only thing she could remember about any of them was a girl in pigtails a bunch of birthdays ago, when Mommy and Daddy still lived in the old house together. The pigtail girl had messed up special toys all made of wood that Grandma Aird got her special. She’d played too rough and some of them were broken before Rindy even got to play with them. Rindy had cried and Mommy had yelled at her sister, and Rindy’s cousin, the piggy girl, had laughed when no one was looking.

“You like having family so close?” Rindy asked.

“Mostly,” Lizzie said again. “Italians flock together!”

Rindy thought of Mommy’s apartment and Daddy’s yard, and what it would be like to have a whole street to wander and explore because there was always someone to watch you, not yell to come back where they could see you. Lizzie was lucky, and Rindy stopped worrying about following her around.

They walked a little more, lifting their snow boots high to get over all the white. “Where are we going?” Rindy asked again, not scared, like a baby, but very curious.

“That’s classified.”

Rindy was about to argue, when a funny voice she didn’t recognize called out from somewhere.

“Hey, lil Miss Liz! C’mere!”

* * *

 

Rosario had only been trying to help. He’d just turned fourteen a couple of weeks ago, some of his older siblings had already left the house. He had to start stepping up.

Anyway, Angie would kill him if he let his brothers hassle his baby niece.

Francesco was two years younger than him, and the one actually meant to be watching the girls while Rosario did chores. Except Francesco, Benny, and Pietro were being assholes instead. He’d seen Patrizia hustle in after getting pummeled in their snowball fight. No doubt she’d whine to Mama about it. Lizzie could handle herself but he wasn’t sure one way or the other about Rindy. And again, Angie would kill him if he just let them pick at Lizzie.

So he called them over to help him. They shoveled snow, cleared vents, chopped firewood (not Pietro though, he only stacked it, despite wanting to use the axe).

He hadn’t meant to keep them so long, but there were lots of chores. And then some of their cousins and other neighborhood boys had started tromping in and out and wanting to do things and Rosario lost track of time. He didn’t have school today so hadn’t bothered with a watch.

It wasn’t until Mama was making lunch and yelling at everyone to leave the snacks alone that anyone even noticed something was wrong.

“Where are the girls?” she asked, ladling steaming hot soup into bowls.

“I’m right here, Mama,” Patrizia said from the table, sounding pathetic.

“Shut up, ‘Tritzi,” Pietro said. “Nobody cares.”

“Hey,” Sofia said, holding up her ladle threateningly. Even though Patrizia _had_ been whiney and clingy and behaving like she’d taken shrapnel to the chest since she came in. “I see you, bambina,” she said, changing her tone. “I meant the other girls.”

A quick check out the front window turned up nothing. Benny was sent to look for them in the house. He could be heard yelling for Lizzie to get out of wherever she was hiding, otherwise there wouldn’t be any soup for her and she’d starve and die and turn to bones.

“Benny!” Sofia yelled.

“What?” He yelled through the ceiling.

“Knock it off!”

“They ain’t up here!”

“Look harder, you know how Lizzie is!”

Benny looked, presumably. He stomped back down after awhile, sulking that he was hungry and that they’d smell the food and show eventually.

Then there was Sofia cursing and more looking. Including by Vittore’s friends, who’d only come for the food and the company, and insisted they hadn’t seen Rindy or Lizzie when they came over. And then there was lots of backtracking and trying to figure out who’d seen them last, and Rosario’s realization of just how long it’d been since he saw them on the lawn. They hadn’t been there when he and the others cleared a path to the garage for when Papa came home, but he’d assumed they’d gone in.

His mother didn’t seem to understand this.

“Mama—”

“What were you thinking?” She turned furious eyes from Rosario to his brother. “Francesco Alessio Martinelli—”

“I’m sorry! They were just playing out front, they—”

“You left them alone? IN THE SNOW?”

‘’Sario needed helpers!”

“And it took three of you?”

“They were being mean to the girls!” Rosario felt himself start to shake. “I was just trying to help, Mama.”

“They, they’re around,” Francesco said, his voice cracking too. “They’re just exploring, probably. Benny and Vittore are probably bringing them back right now.”

Benny and Vittore had been sent out to look. Vittore came running in the back door a minute later, tramping snow. He panted, cheeks red from the cold.

“Benny said tell you they’re not on the block. He’s asking everyone if they saw anything.”

Rosario shivered as wind blew into the open door. The snow hadn’t stopped falling all day, the flakes in a constant race to cover the footprints lining sidewalk and street. Any footprints that might’ve led them to the girls.

Someone said something about calling Marco for help, and Rosario shivered again. Patrizia was fidgeting. He told her to sit, eat her soup, and not to leave the house, not for anything. He told that to all of them and ignored two of Francesco’s friends who insisted that he wasn’t their brother and couldn’t tell them what to do.

Crossing to the front room, he grabbed a jacket from the hooks by the door. Marco’s jacket. It was too big on him, the sleeves too long. He zipped it up and went outside. As he was closing the door, he heard Vittore pestering their mother to call Marco.

Shit.

Benny was halfway up the block, banging on his aunt’s door. Rosario chose to cover the other direction. He stopped everyone he saw, mostly little kids, but they were no help. They hadn’t seen Lizzie, or they had but weren’t sure exactly when, and wasn’t she in their yard somewhere? Kids didn’t track time on snow days. He hadn’t. Marco’s jacket was heavy on his shoulders.

Marco.

Marco would be eighteen in a couple weeks. It’d always been a thing, Rosario’s birthday one month, Marco’s the next. Always a thing with money, a problem, until Angie made it big. He worked with Papa on days like this, no school. Papa worked for the phone company. Really did, unlike Peggy who clearly never had. There had to be lines down all over town, Marco and Papa would be busy. Maybe the calls wouldn’t get through and Marco wouldn’t come.

The cold was bitter but Rosario sweated. Marco was the oldest, besides Angie and Angel. Marco would be the one to really, _really_ kill him if he’d lost their baby niece. Benny would guilt him and make him feel terrible (even though Benny was fifteen and older and he could’ve watched the kids too instead of just picking on them and being an ass). Benny would guilt him, shove him around a little. But Marco, Marco was oldest now Angel and Angie were gone, figured himself in charge when Papa wasn’t around.

Marco would be first to suggest the belt.

Rosario’s breath was rough, visible as he searched. He ducked through backyards without asking, whether they belonged to relatives or not. He heard family members yelling, searching too.

He stopped at the end of their street. Lizzie wouldn’t go beyond that, would she? She never had. Not that he knew of anyway. The wind blew snow in his face and he wiped it away angrily. Snow, snot and tears covered his ungloved hand. He turned around.

His legs felt numb and unreliable as he returned to his home. He squinted through the front window, saw frantic movement inside. Then he heard a noise that took up all his attention.

His father’s truck rumbled down the road. He’d heard a snowplow go by earlier, making the roads somewhat passable. The truck wasn’t even all the way in the drive before a door opened and closed. Marco leaving the passenger’s side. And then Rosario’s father, silent and staring, coming through the snow toward him.

“What did you do?” Angelo Sr. asked, very quiet but loud enough to be heard over Marco’s cursing.

Rosario hung his head.

“What did you do?” he repeated.

Rosario’s shoulders shook in Marco’s coat. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

“Where are they?” he asked, still quiet but almost growling. “’Sario. Where are they?”

“I, I don’t know, Papa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know this is similar to, ahem, another thing I have going at the moment, and if I were a decent person I’d finish that up before starting this. But I’ve been waiting for three entries in this series to do this current thing, and I'm a bad person.. Also, all the stories combined are over 100,000 words now, which both pleases and frightens me. God I hope you’re not all bored yet.
> 
> Comments and kudos are, as always, muchly appreciated. Come yell at me, I have cookies.

“Darling…”

Peggy’s moan filled the room, made Angie grin as she balanced Peggy’s leg more comfortably over her shoulder. She kissed the inside of Peggy’s right thigh, then placed the flat of her tongue back where it wanted to be.

Peggy’s back arched, her hand in Angie’s hair going too tight, then letting up a bit, soothing. “Oh, but I’ve missed you.”

Angie kissed Peggy’s clit, swirled her tongue over it. Peggy’s long, muscular leg shook against her shoulder and Angie readjusted her grip. Almost ten years and she’d never get over it, making calm, cool, collected superspy Peggy Carter weak in the knees. “The whole package,” she asked, lips still close to Peggy’s wetness, blowing soft air against it, “my charming personality included? Or just my tongue?” She used her teeth, careful.

A breath was sucked in above her. The hand in her hair went to her cheek, tapped lightly until Angie looked up. “I adore every last inch of you, inside and out. And yes, your tongue is absolutely my favorite feature just now.”

Angie beamed wickedly. The ends of her curls touched Peggy’s. She rewarded the honestly with a gentle, sucking kiss to Peggy’s center. Peggy writhed atop the sheets and Angie put a hand over her stomach. She stroked her fingers over the marks from Jacob. “I missed you too. So much.”

They hadn’t been like this since before Jacob. Admittedly _right_ before Jacob, with Peggy insisting she wanted the great lump out already and they could assist her with that or leave her alone until after she’d crawled under the stairs and had the thing like a cat with a litter, but anyway. Peggy hadn’t been in a great mood then, and there were physical and not-physical reasons they’d waited.

Angie hadn’t even gotten her traditional New Year’s Eve fuck. At least not from Peggy. She’d understood, of course, but it was a tradition that pre-dated Steve. Who would be terribly jealous that Angie got to break the dry spell before he did. “Just like old times, huh, sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

 “You and me,” she licked over Peggy’s opening, “just us,” she nosed softly at Peggy’s clit, “just gals being pals,” she kissed all around the hardened nub, “no fellas in the house.”

The phone on their bedside table rang. Peggy grabbed a pillow with her free hand and groaned into it. Jacob’s cries filled the house.

“Still a fella,” Peggy said, hand over her face, “or did you forget already?”

Angie only half-stifled a noise of frustration, hiding her face against Peggy’s leg. “Fucking SHIELD. SHIELD was a terrible idea, English.”

“That’s not my work line, but thank you, darling, for your endless support.”

The phone rang again. Jacob kept crying. “If we ignore them, maybe they’ll go away.”

“The person on the phone, or our baby?”

“Either. Both.” When it was clear that neither would go away and that Peggy had no intention of picking up the phone herself, Angie reluctantly moved Peggy’s thighs back to their normal, not trapping Angie’s head position, and crawled up the bed. “Hold that thought, doll,” she said, pressing a kiss to Peggy’s mouth on the way.

“It’s not thoughts I’m holding onto, love.”

Angie wiped her mouth and answered the phone. “Hello? Ma?” She was grumpy and distracted and didn’t catch her mother’s tone as quickly as she otherwise might have. “Ma I, we’re having breakfast,” she checked the clock next to the phone, “brunch. We’re in the middle of brunch. Everything okay?”

As Angie listened, Peggy was sitting up, reaching for her robe.

“What?” Angie said, holding the receiver closer to hear over the crying. “Are you…no but did you…?”

“Angie?”

Peggy had already halted, only one arm in her robe. Angie grabbed her wrist, clamped it too tight. Felt the calm, steady pulse there as her own started beating much, much too fast.

* * *

 Carol had tried very hard to impede Therese’s career, but lost in the end. She’d managed to keep Therese in bed much longer than usual, the two of them enjoying a morning without Rindy climbing all over them the moment she woke up.

It was nice, with lots of coffee and lazy kisses and light dozes, and Carol would’ve happily kept that going until it was time to get Rindy. But Therese was a career woman now, as Carol had said with affection and mostly feigned annoyance. Mr. Whitmore, the charming man from the paper who’d caused them much hassle in the past, had relayed a message that Therese was not to come to work today, but was to get as many photos as she could of the half-buried city.

“Don’t kill yourself trying to get through this mess, Belivet,” was the message quoted by that Campbell woman, “you’re not important enough to come in today, and I don’t have the space for your obituary.”

Charming, charming man.

So Therese had gone, bundled up with every piece of winterwear she could find, and several Carol had forced on her.

“Where will you go?” Carol had asked.

“Wherever the snow is,” Therese said with a shrug, a smile.

“Honey…” Carol gestured out their bedroom window.

“I don’t know, Carol. Wherever it most catches my eye.” She’d tugged at a scarf Carol had dug from a closet, wound around her neck.

“Leave that.”

“It’s choking me.”

“You’ll get sick. Your throat will be sore.”

“My throat will be sore if I choke to death, too.”

Infuriating woman, Carol thought, all fondness as she stood in the kitchen, poured herself more coffee. The roads still looked hideous, and Angie’s mother had told her on the phone last night not to bother rushing out.

Still.

She’d call and make sure Rindy was okay. She’d seemed better after talking to Therese last night, but who knew with a seven-year-old, things could change so quickly. She’d make sure Rindy was alright, and it would keep her from moping around the apartment like an idiot just because Therese was out tramping in the snow instead of naked in their bed.

Still in her robe, Carol went toward the phone on the kitchen wall, setting her coffee down with some reluctance so she could work the dial.  She was briefly thankful that it worked at all, that a line hadn’t failed somewhere since Mrs. Campbell’s call, with what a mess things were. Briefly thankful, because the operator let her know the line was busy and she wouldn’t be connecting after all.

Considering the sheer number of people the Martinellis knew, Carol wasn’t concerned. She thanked the operator and sat down with her coffee and the paper. She hoped Whitmore would use some of Therese’s photos, that she wasn’t freezing to death out there for nothing.

Carol finished her coffee and her paper. She dumped the cup in the sink and put the paper back in order on the table, for Therese to look at later. She called the Martinellis again. Thanked the operator again when she was unable to get through. She wasn’t very worried at all as she hung up the phone. If there was something to be worried about, she’d be called.

The phone rang just after she’d set it in it’s cradle. It was too loud, or the apartment was too quiet without Therese, without Rindy. It made her jump, which was ridiculous. Her hand shook a little as she picked up the phone again, and she decided she’d had too much coffee.

“Hello?”

Nothing, not immediately.

“Hello?” She tried again. “Is anyone there?”

“Good mor—afternoon. Good afternoon. Is Mrs. Aird available to come to the phone, please?”

Not the voice she expected, though she’d expected no one in particular. Too young, but older than Rindy. Carol ignored the reflexive stab of annoyance at being called ‘Mrs.,’ and thought for the thousandth time that she’d go back to Ross in a heartbeat if not for her daughter. “This is she. Can I help you?”

“I—hello, Mrs. Aird, this is Francesco Martinelli. Angie’s brother? Not the baby one or the queer one but, but fourth from the bottom. I asked you if you needed help in your shop once?”

The middle Martinelli children tended to run together for her, but Carol remembered now. He’d wanted a job lugging furniture, and a larger boy with similar looks said that he was only good for being stuffed into cabinets, not lifting them. “Yes, hello, Francesco.” Carol tried to sound normal, friendly. He was obviously making an effort to be polite. But why was he calling her? Why was _he_ calling her?

“Yeah, um, Mrs., Mrs. Aird? My brother requested for me to phone you because, because…”

She heard hitched breathing. He was older and not Rindy but still a child, and she knew what a child crying sounded like. “Because why, Francesco?” Carol asked, much calmer than she felt. “What’s the matter?”

“We, we can’t find the girls. Lizzie and, and Rindy, I mean. Ma’am.”

The words did not register, not really. They didn’t make sense. The ones that followed weren’t much better.

“We’ve looked and sent out everyone,” he said, babbling, “and we’re still looking and ‘Sario’s hopping fences and Papa’s come home with Marco but…they’re gone. Can you come, please? My brother said ask you to come so I’m, I’m using my zio’s phone. Mama’s callin’ Angie on ours.”

They replayed over and over, we can’t find the girls. Filled every corner of Carol’s mind, got stuck there. They would not make sense no matter which way Carol turned them. A child crying on the other end of a phone line was telling her that her child was lost. It wouldn’t fit together in her brain.

She needed Therese. Therese would make the words make sense. She’d said it last night, that she could see things in a way Carol couldn’t sometimes, and she’d been right. Perhaps Therese would be able to make perfect sense of it, as she’d made sense a thousand times before of a thousand things that were too much for Carol.

She needed Rindy. She needed Therese to make sense of what this boy was saying about Rindy. She had neither, only Francesco’s wet, shaky cries over the line.

* * *

She would take a hot bath, Therese decided. The longest, hottest bath of her life, and then maybe she would feel human again.

She’d photographed buried cars and people wading through snow, and children who’d turned every slightly inclined surface in the city into a sledding hill. And a bunch of other things too that she was too cold to remember as she trudged toward the building on Madison Avenue.

She should’ve stayed in with Carol, where it was warm. Was she a career woman now, as Carol said, or just mad? She’d figure it out later, after she thawed herself out.

So focused was she on walking against the wind, making those last few steps home, that she didn’t see Abby’s car parked just in front of the building. She didn’t even look up the first time the horn blared. It took a repeat of that and a “Therese!” yelled into the cold to get her attention.

When Therese did finally escape her tunnel vision, it was to see that familiar convertible, it’s muted green covered in white. Abby stood half in, half out of the open driver’s side door. Therese went to the car. Abby got back inside and slammed her door, but the passenger window rolled down and Therese saw Rose Roberts there.

If she was confused before, she’d moved on to baffled. “Abby?” she said, while her eyes darted between them. She shivered worse in the cold now that she’d gone still. “Rose, what’s—”

“Get in the car, kiddo.”

There was Abby’s affectionate term for her, said quite seriously. Therese looked from her to the building.  Why would Abby sit in her car out here when Carol was in there? Never mind Rose’s presence, which was something else entirely. “What? Carol’s—”

“Carol’s gone, Therese.”

It hit her like the worst of this cold, sunk straight into her chest. She was naked again with just a blanket over her, and Abby was there to tell her Carol was gone, Carol had left her. Left Abby there to get her home.

But this _was_ home, so Therese’s reaction, her instant, sickening fear, made no sense. Nothing did.

“She had to leave,” Rose said, her tone soft, understanding, but with an urgency to it. “She couldn’t wait for you and didn’t know where you’d gone to pick you up. She called Abby to come get you.”

 “Gone where?”

“To find Rindy,” said Rose.

Had she imagined that slight pause before the answer? Surely. She’d imagined, or misheard, the answer in it’s entirety. “Rindy’s with Angie’s parents,” Therese said. Why would Carol have to find Rindy when it was perfectly clear where she was?

“Get in the car, honey. Come in and get warm and we’ll talk about it.”

Therese got in the car. The hint of command in Rose’s voice gave her no choice, nor did Abby’s uncharacteristically somber expression.

Therese sat in the back, feeling very much like a child, with her parents in the grownup seats. That feeling only grew when Abby pulled rather recklessly into what traffic there was, cursing to herself as she navigated the big car over the icy roads. As Therese watched, Rose put a hand over Abby’s on the wheel, said it wouldn’t make anything better if they wrecked themselves getting over.

“It’s going to be okay,” Rose said, her hand lingering over Abby’s.

“Sorry,” Abby said.

“Hush.” Rose’s hand stayed in place. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

What in the hell was going on?

They told her, between them, what they knew of it. Therese’s memories of being with Abby on another surreal, sickening drive only worsened. Every answer they didn’t have made her nauseous. Every answer they had, as well. She might’ve made Abby pull over so she could throw up on the side of the road, like last time. But there wasn’t time. How long had the girls been missing for? No one knew exactly, not yet. Who saw them last? No one knew exactly, not yet.

When she’d asked all the questions she could think of (her brain was both whirling too fast burning itself out and barely moving at all), there was quiet and that was worse. Abby had the top up, mercifully, which muted the wind. She’d left the radio off and was driving stiff. Hunched forward and holding the wheel too tight. Usually she drove as if she’d done it from birth, could do it with her eyes closed. She didn’t speak.

The nausea got worse, Therese’s chest tighter without something to focus on. Rose had let go of Abby’s hand, but Therese saw them look at each other again and again through the rearview mirror.

“Carol called you?” Therese asked Abby.

“I was with her,” Rose said, answering the real question. Peg hadn’t called her in, but Rose would be a help, she was sure.

“Are you two…?” Therese trailed off. It didn’t matter. It was simply the one thing here she could possibly make sense of.

“Yes,” Abby said, simply.

“Oh. How long?”

“Three months, about,” Rose said.

Oh.

On any other day, Abby and Rose would’ve taken up all her attention. Particularly since it seemed Carol hadn’t known about Abby and Rose. Now the revelation was pushed quickly to the back of her mind for later, after everything was normal again.

Everything _had_ to be normal again.

They reached the Martinelli house sooner than they should have, but Rose only commented once or twice about Abby’s driving. Abby swore as they took in the scene. Therese couldn’t speak.

She'd call it organized chaos, but plain chaos might have been more apt. There were men scattered  up and down the block, bundled against the cold, calling for the kids. Dozens more stood around, some with paper in their hands, some without. Some had shovels of various types at their sides, or leant against them. Somewhere a dog was letting off a howl, interrupting the chattering silence.

“Why are they just standing around?” Abby asked, jerking the wheel a bit as she parked. “Why aren’t they doing anything?”

“Orders,” Rose said without missing a beat.

“What?”

“They’re waiting on orders. This many people, you send them out willy nilly, it’d be a mess. Without a plan, some places get looked over ten times by ten pairs of eyes, then there’s somewhere else no one checks because they think someone else is doing it. Things get missed.”

Things. People. The children. The children would be missed, were already missed.

The photographer in her worked before she could think, and she lifted the camera nearly forgotten around her neck, taking several shots rapid fire.

She hated herself almost immediately, hated whatever instinct had caused her to peer through the lens. This wasn’t a damn news story. Except it was and she knew it, and Whitmore would dance a jig on his desk if he knew what was happening here, Steve Rogers’s daughter missing. Both of his daughters missing, because that’s what the public would think.

She felt sick again, with herself, as she threw open the car door. She’d destroy them when it was all over, destroy the whole roll even. When everything was okay again, she’d d get rid of any evidence that it hadn’t been.

"Ms. Belvet! Ms. Belvet!" The squeak of a teenage boy's voice broke her out of her daze, "Ma'am? Mama tol' me come fetch you quick."

Light hair, light eyes, had to be a Martinelli. His expression was frantic and Therese had to stop herself, clench her hands, to keep from snapping another shot with the camera. What was wrong with her? Really, what was the matter with her?

"I, yes, okay." Therese agreed, already being led inside. The boy’s large hand nearly dwarfed hers.

Therese was dimly aware of Rose and Abby trailing her. There were more people crowded into the house, a constant mixture of English and Italian words. The boy led her quick and careful through the masses. Even so, Therese was briefly stuck behind a cluster of huge men with dark hair. She heard Carol before seeing her.

"No, no, no! Rindy doesn't _have_ enemies, she doesn't have people out to get her, there are no people who even know where she is."

Carol’s voice carried over the din, stinging Therese’s heart. She wanted to call out, but her throat closed in on itself.

“Harge is…Christ. I can’t think where the hell he is right now but he took a plane to get there. He wouldn’t take her like this, he doesn’t need to. His parents are in Florida.”

There was a pause, the boy’s hand tightening in Therese’s as someone edged past them. She saw Carol briefly, her back anyway. How rigid it was, how her shoulders trembled.

"Who the hell do you think she's angered enough to make an enemy of, she's seven!"

The sharp desperation of Carol’s voice sliced through her. They got past the traffic jam of bodies in the living room and Therese slipped out of the boy’s grasp, not bothering to thank him. “Carol!”

Carol turned around. Therese barely registered how beautiful, how terrible she looked before rushing into her, being pulled into her embrace.

“Therese.”

She could feel the shaking now. Carol was so much taller than her, had never seemed so small. “I’m here,” Therese promised, trying to keep her voice even, be steady. “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry I wasn’t home.” She shouldn’t have left. Carol shouldn’t have had to get that news alone, had to take time arranging transport for her.

Carol hushed her, clutched at her. “You’re here now. You’re here.”

“Of course.”

Carol pulled away enough to look at her. “Therese? Rindy, I can’t, I can’t find, I don’t…”

“I know,” Therese said, wiping tears from Carol’s face with her fingers. “We’re going to take care of it, okay? Everything’s going to be okay.”

A throat cleared. Therese had developed tunnel vision again, saw only Carol. Realized now that Peggy was there too. It was Peggy Carol had yelled at.

“Therese,” she said, all there was of a greeting. Then her eyes widened. “Rose?”

Abby and Rose had caught up to her. Therese let Carol go so Abby could hold her. Carol said Abby’s name on a sob and Abby kissed her cheek, pulled her tight.

“We’re here now, we’re all here. It’s all going to be alright.”

“How did you know?” Peggy asked Rose.

“I stayed the night at Abby’s, I was there when she got the call.” Rose said this to her boss as simply and factually as she had to Therese.

“Oh,” Peggy said, not without surprise. “Well then, while you’re here—”

 “Just tell me where you need me.”

Angie, Peggy said, was looking over maps and search grids. She nodded in the direction of the kitchen and Therese saw Angie squeezed in at the table with five or six men twice her size. Peggy called to her loud enough to overtake the noise and Angie came to them. She saw Therese and hugged her.

“Therese,” she said, no nickname. As serious as Therese had ever heard her.

“Angie.” Therese held her, allowed herself to sag in a way she hadn’t with Carol. It was too much. Already it was all too much, and she’d missed half of it.

“We’re going to find them.”

If Angie was acting, which she probably was, she was better than Therese ever imagined. Her face was clear and determined, voice strong. The eyes were all that gave her away. Rimmed red.

“Where’s Steve?” Therese asked. She’d seen him mind the children from distances that shouldn’t be possible. He could hear when they were up to something at times when Therese hadn’t had a clue.

“He’s in New Jersey,” Peggy answered. “He’ll be here soon.”

‘New Jersey,’ Therese had learned, didn’t necessarily mean New Jersey. It was a sort of catchall term for when he or Peggy were away and doing something that couldn’t be asked about. How far away was New Jersey this time? States away? Another coast? Another continent?

Peggy asked Rose to go over the maps with Angie, “she knows the area,” and take charge of the people waiting outside. Rose did so without a word. Angie squeezed Therese’s hand, nodded to Abby, and then followed.

“Shall we continue?” Peggy asked once they were gone.

“Continue with what, this, this nonsense?” Carol asked. “She’s _seven_.”

“I know,” Peggy said, calm. “I was at her last birthday. I’m not asking about her age.”

“No one would take her, I told you! Harge has gone to, to—”

“D.C.,” Therese said before Carol could search for the answer again, get more upset. She remembered because Rindy had pouted about not being able to go and see the Cap exhibit there. Therese and Carol had laughed over how Harge must’ve hated that talk.

“D.C.,” Carol repeated, shooting Therese the briefest of grateful looks. “He wouldn’t do this anyway, he’s got no reason to.”

“You really think someone took them?” Just saying the words made Therese want to sit down, fall down.

“We’re looking at every angle.”

“There is no,” Carol shook her head. “If there’s an angle like that, it’s from your end, not mine, and you know that.”

“Carol.” Abby reached a hand to Carol’s arm, but it was shrugged off.

“Rindy doesn’t have enemies. You do. If someone took them, took her, it was because of something you or Steve did. God, Harge said this would happen. He said everyone around you was a target.”

“Congratulations. You married and divorced a man with basic observational skills. And you swore you two never agree on anything."

Abby started to say something but Peggy held up a hand. Which should not have done anything to silence Abby but did. Probably it was the look in Peggy’s eyes. Therese couldn’t take that look, had to dart her eyes away. She saw Angie, who seemed about to say something, but didn’t. Her lips closed, pursed. She returned Therese’s glance and shook her head, just slightly.

Stay out of it.

Therese was still debating whether she would or could when Peggy spoke again.

"What do you want, Carol, a party thrown? Apologies? Shall I stand here and beg your forgiveness? Shall I wax poetic about my deep regret when I don’t even know what’s happened yet, or would you like me to focus on finding your child?"

The words were acidic, bitten out with force. Therese went speechless under the burn of them.

 "I know exactly who my enemies are. I know that there are so many more of them than there are of us. I know just how many people would love to harm my daughter, my family, and how many actually could. I live with that every day. I have, since before my children existed.  But right now that list includes hardly anyone who would consider Rindy a target as well, and who has the means and the balls to actually do something.”

“Why wouldn’t she be a target? The papers said—”

“That she’s a bastard. Without his name, that he never claimed. If someone wants to go after a Rogers child, they’ll take one of the two he’s proven he gives a damn about. Rindy would be nothing but an added complication. A spare.”

“A spare?” Carol repeated. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I am telling you how they think. How one of these people you are throwing in my face would think. They would watch and they would plan before they made a move. And they would be idiots to do so with Rindy there. Rindy, who is yes, a complication, and yes, a spare _._ To them, she would be. And any one of my enemies capable of making off with my daughter would not be stupid or sloppy enough to do it with Rindy around. Which means that I need for you to stop whining about how befriending my family has caused you to once again agree with your ex-husband’s bigotry, and either make yourself useful or stay out of the way. You can help with the first option by figuring out who would consider Rindy a target on your end so we may rule out one possibility."

Those nearby who may’ve heard all this were smart enough not to react. Therese remained frustratingly mute, unable to do anything but watch, wait.

“What if they took my child, Peggy? What if someone has my little girl?”

The words weren’t hard or angry anymore. They were broken pieces held together by shaking hands, on the brink of shattering.

“Then they have mine as well,” Peggy said, softer than before. “Which means we have to find them. We can’t stop functioning when they need us most. We’re mothers, we never have that luxury. So, think. Please.”

Carol closed her eyes. Therese fumbled and found her hand, squeezing. Carol’s eyes remained closed, but the pressure was returned. Therese saw her mouthing silent words to herself. Therese thought too, tried. She’d never been angrier that she wasn’t more a part of Rindy’s life, that she didn’t know more of who Rindy saw when she stepped out of their apartment.

“That, that woman,” Carol said after a moment. “God dammit, what’s her name?” Carol wiped roughly at her eyes.

“Who?” Peggy asked.

Carol looked at Abby. “You met her. You called her a dumb blonde. At Harge’s, before Christmas.”

“The one he’s screwing?” Abby snapped her fingers. “Lilah! The secretary. And I didn’t call her a dumb blonde, I called her a bimbo with big boobs.”

“Lilah what, Abby?”

Unlike Harge’s whereabouts, Therese couldn’t answer this one. Rindy only described her as ‘Miss Lilah.’ The one time she’d seen Carol broach the subject, Harge had only said that who he socialized with was none of Carol’s concern. Then he’d looked pointedly at Therese.

If Abby knew the name, she didn’t get to prove it. “She’s clean,” Peggy said.

“You don’t even know her,” Carol argued. “You don’t—”

“I do. I know enough. I’ve checked into her.”

“You’ve checked into her since this morning?”

“No, not since this morning.”

A baby shrieked from somewhere. Jacob. Therese had assumed he’d be somewhere, else with Jarvis’s, maybe. Then she imagined Peggy and Angie rushing out the door, not wanting to waste time. And then she thought of Peggy’s comment about which of the Rogers children a kidnapper would be interested in.

A door slammed. Therese flinched. She saw everything in Carol go tense, with dread or anticipation, wondered how many times she’d heard that door open and balanced every hope and fear upon it.

There were raised voices. Therese only recognized half the words. The ones she didn’t sounded like curses. A boy around seventeen pushed his way through the crowd. He was dragging another boy, maybe a few years younger, by the elbow. Neither had the Martinelli look.

The older one practically threw the younger in front of Peggy. Where the former looked angry, enraged even, the latter shook, His eyes were red and he chewed his lip like Rindy when she was about to cry. Therese wanted immediately to banish the comparison.

“Tell her, Adamo!” the older one yelled.

“Mat, I don’t, I didn’t…”

Adamo shook like a leaf, his knees knocking together.

“Tell her!” the other boy said. He shoved Adamo in the back but grabbed his jacket before he could fall. “Tell her, right now, what you did,” he said, yanking on Adamo's coat.

“Mateo, please. Please don’t—”

“Shut up! Shut up and tell them what you told me. Now!”

Mateo smacked Adamo in the back of the head. No, Therese decided, it looked and sounded much worse than a smack. The boy stumbled, was again yanked by his coat. He sobbed, raising his head just enough to find Angie, who’d rushed over and taken a place next to Therese.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Martinelli.”  His voice wavered, cracked. “I’m, I’m real, real sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay folks. I had an original story with a deadline and that ate up all my brain power for a bit. But now I’m back and it’s May so here, have a story that takes place in winter. 
> 
> Endless thanks for all the comments the last couple chapters have gotten. I so appreciate all of them, even the more death threat-y ones. Possibly especially the more death threat-y ones but anyway…enjoy, come talk/yell to me after.

The next few minutes dragged endlessly, though Therese knew things actually happened rather fast. Peggy and Rose cleared the room, the latter ordering people to follow her outside for assignments. Rose asked Abby to come with her and Abby looked very close to saying no, but Carol whispered to her. Abby squeezed Carol’s hands, shot a lingering look at the two boys, then told people she’d never met to get moving. Peggy wanted everyone out, but Therese saw several Martinellis lurking on the stairs, the second floor, so Peggy must’ve seen too.

Peggy didn’t ask her or Carol to leave.

Even with fewer eyes on him, Adamo shook, cried. Peggy gave Carol a look when she tried to speak to him. Carol stopped talking, but Therese could see the effort involved. She expected Peggy to take charge but it was Angie who spoke. The boy was taller than she was, but Angie talked to him like Therese had heard her do with Lizzie and Rindy.

“What’s going on, Adamo?” she asked, all calmness.

Adamo burst out with choked Italian words, none of which Therese could understand, though she’d picked up a bit from time spent with Angie. The brother, Mateo, spoke at the same time, louder, angrier.

“Calma, ragazzi,” Angie said, then told Mateo to get some hot chocolate from the kitchen. “There’s plenty, you’ve got to be freezing.”

“I didn’t know nothing about this, Ms. Martinelli. I brought this stronzo over as soon as I knew. If I’d known earlier—”

“It’s okay, Mat,” Angie said while he glared at his brother. “Get yourself a drink now.”

“I didn’t—”

Angie called out a name. Someone, one of her brothers, probably, who couldn’t have been that much younger than Therese, came down the stairs. He said something in Italian and steered Mateo away. Adamo looked ready to collapse without his brother’s death grip on him and Angie told him to sit. He fell, more like, getting snow all over the couch. Angie sat next to him.

“What happened, Adamo?”

“I’m sorry! I,” his eyes cut briefly to his brother, who now faced away from him. “I didn’t wanna get in trouble. I didn’t want—”

“You’re not in trouble. I’ve known you since you were in diapers, have I ever lied? Just talk to me like normal, huh?”

Therese noticed Angie’s New York accent go thicker as she spoked, wondered whether or not it was deliberate.

“I, I saw the girls. Lizzie and her friend. I saw them awhile ago and everyone was asking and, and I lied.”

Therese sensed Carol tensing up next to her. She squeezed Carol’s hand, too hard probably.

“Okay. Where’d you see them, compagno?”

Adamo pointed backward, out the front window. “They were going up the street. That way.” He pointed again.

“When was this?”

“Awhile ago.”

“When, Adamo? This is important.”

“I don’t know! It was, I messed up, Ms. Martinelli. I swear I don’t know.”

Therese saw, just for a moment, Angie’s mask slip, heard the slight edge in her voice when she spoke next.

“Just start from the beginning, Adamo. Were they okay when you saw them?”

“Of course!” he declared, rushed. “They were just walking and talking and, and they were fine. I wouldn’ta let them go if I thought they weren’t okay, Ms. Martinelli, I promise.”

“I know. I know, Adamo. What were you doing when you saw them?”

He shifted, stared at his snow boots. “Just, just walking the other way from where they were going. I was walking the other way, cross the street.”

“Did you talk to them?”

“I, I called them over. Asked Lizzie where, where ‘Sario was. She said here.”

“Did she say where she was going? What she and Rindy were doing?”

“She said the boys were being mean and they were gonna get revenge.”

“That’s it?”

“She said it was top secret revenge and she couldn’t tell me in case I was spying for ‘Sario and the boys. Then they kept walking. I didn’t know it was bad, Ms. Martinelli, I thought they were fine, I thought—”

“Were you going to see Rosario?” It was Peggy this time, finally speaking up. Gentle enough, but also cutting through Adamo’s rambling. “You asked Lizzie where he was. Did you want to see him?”

“I,” he looked at Peggy, shrank, looked at his boots again. “I thought I was gonna do that, ma’am, yes.”

“You changed your mind?”

“Lizzie said, said they were here and doing chores and I didn’t wanna get roped into it.”

Peggy watched him. “Is that all?”

There was a clatter, it made Therese jump. Mateo had slammed a mug down on the kitchen table. “No, that ain’t all,” he said, back to glaring. “You better tell her now. You’re already—”

“Chiuderlo, Mat,” the older boy said, the one who’d steered Mateo away.

“Marco—”

“Shut it, I said. He can’t tell it if you don’t shut up.”

Adamo cried, hiccupped.

“You won’t get in trouble,” Peggy said. “Angie’s your friend, yes? The Martinellis are your friends. You won’t get in trouble for telling the truth.”

Adamo looked as if he didn’t believe her at all, but spoke anyway. “My Pa, he ain’t home right now, he ain’t home for awhile. I was…I been sneaking some of his liquor, ma’am. I was gonna ask ‘Sario if he wanted any, but Lizzie said everyone was here, that Mrs. Martinelli was here and I didn’t wanna get in trouble, get him in trouble, so I—”

“—came back and got stupid all on your own,” said Mateo. “Pa’s going to belt you good, you stupid—”

“You were drinking it too!”

“I’m grown, stronzo! You, lying when there’s two babies missing, Pa’s gonna blame me for it and—”

There was a commotion. A mess of English and Italian, yelling. Carol tried to speak over it with minimal success.  Marco took Mateo outside with a hand at the back of his neck, not as roughly as Mateo had dragged Adamo in front of them. Rosario came down the stairs, proving that he had indeed been hiding there. Peggy was loud and mildly terrifying and halted the worst of the noise.

“You saw her?” Rosario asked. “You saw my niece and you knew I was looking and you didn’t say?”

“I didn’t wanna get you in trouble. I thought you’d find them by now, I thought…I’m sorry, ‘Sario.”

“Adamo,” Peggy said before he could break down again. “You’re going to show Angie and I exactly where you saw them last, alright.”

It wasn’t an actual question.

“He’s showing all of us,” Carol said. “I’m going too.”

Peggy shook her head. “Someone needs to be here in case they come back.”

“Peggy—”

“This is my job. Do I need to explain that again? Things like this are my job. Angie knows him and knows the neighborhood. Someone needs to be here in case they come back, and you are hardly dressed for tramping around in a blizzard.”

Therese had to agree. While she’d bundled up as best she could before leaving this morning, expecting to take a long time with her photos, Carol had clearly thrown on the nearest clothes she could find, the nearest coat, and that was it. “Carol…”

Carol’s look was absolutely murderous. Therese withstood it for several seconds, then flinched.

Carol’s shoulders sagged.

“She needs her mother here, in proper shape, for when she comes back,” Peggy said. “I know this is hard. Look at me. I _know_ this is hard. But we have a lead now. I’m going to go check that lead, and then I will come back or I will send someone back to tell you what’s happening. I promise. I promise, but I need you to trust me.”

Whether she needed trust or not, Peggy didn’t wait for confirmation that she had it. Angie argued briefly with Rosario, told him to stay and help their mother with Jake.

“But—”

“I said no, ‘Sario. Just, please. Keep things together here, with Jake and the twins. Mama needs help.”

She touched his face, winced when they heard Jacob screaming again, then followed Peggy.

They watched through the window as Adamo led Angie, Peggy and a few others down the street. Marco, the brother of Angie’s who got Mateo out of the room, was with them. So was Angie’s father.

Therese searched for words to help Carol, could find none.

Sofia came down the stairs with a sobbing Jacob. She told Rosario to prepare a bottle and he did it without arguing. She paced with the baby, murmuring indistinct Italian words, seemed to take a moment to notice Therese was there despite the room being mostly cleared out.

“Theresa,” she said when she did notice. “Sweetheart.”

She came and kissed Therese’s cheek and when she pulled back Therese saw that she suddenly looked old, which she wasn’t. Her eyes were red. She called Therese darling, asked if she’d gotten through the snow okay, if she was warm enough, if she needed coffee.

Therese stumbled through answers, distinctly aware of Carol watching them. Her stomach rolled in the way it did sometimes when she knew the storm inside Carol was becoming intolerable. Rosario called for his mother and she went to sit in the kitchen with Jacob. Therese was relieved for that much.

Jacob liked the formula about as much as he had the other few times Therese had seen it used. He cried more, protested as much as he could without words. The sounds were both grating and heartbreaking. Carol turned from her abruptly, went down the hall without a word. A door slammed. Jacob cried with renewed intensity. Therese wasn’t sure whether she should follow or not. Ultimately it didn’t matter because Pietro and Patrizia came down the stairs and started talking to her, asking about her camera. They were nervous, and Therese tried to speak as though she cared at all about the camera, about any of the small things they brought up with her.

“Lizzie and me and Rindy had a snowball fight,” Patrizia declared while Pietro rotated on the spot, stared through the viewfinder of Therese’s camera.

Therese swallowed hard. “Did you?”

Patrizia nodded. “Before. Before everyone got all crazy. Lizzie says I can’t throw worth a damn.”

Pietro lowered the camera. “You can’t.”

Patrizia scowled at him. “Rindy doesn’t think that.”

“She does, probably, she ‘s just being nice to you.”

“Yeah,” said Patrizia. “Rindy’s always nice. She’s always nice, Miss. Belvet.”

Therese nodded. She couldn’t speak, didn’t know what she’d say if she could.

People moved about the house. Jacob finally ate. Sofia paced with him and patted his back, but he remained fussy. Rosario eventually shooed the twins away from Therese. Carol returned just as the others did, bringing snow and cold with them. Therese stood up before the first person had stepped over the threshold.

Nothing. The place Adamo saw the girls had already been searched, and there were no obvious signs pointing to where they went after. Adamo apologized again, over and over. Peggy said they at least had a direction now, a slightly narrower search grid. Peggy took Jacob and he immediately calmed some. Angie kissed the baby’s head.

“I’m good,” she said, apparently to Peggy. “I’m not, I’m not…I just need a second.”

“Of course,” Peggy said.

“I’ll only be a second.”

“I know, darling.”

Angie excused herself, disappearing somewhere. Therese saw her trembling as she walked away. Sofia followed her. Marco told Adamo to get hot chocolate from the kitchen, get warm.

Marco looked ready to ignore his own advice, go back out again, when Rosario spoke.

“You didn’t find them?”

Marco turned around, only looked at his brother.

“Screw it,” Rosario muttered, went toward the door. He didn’t have a jacket.

Marco stopped him with a hand on his chest. Stared at him. “No. Restare.”

“I’m going! I wanna see, I wanna see where they were.”

“There’s nothin that other people ain’t already seen.”

“I don’t care about other people!”

“’Sario—”

“I can help! I messed up but I can help! Dannazione tu!”

“You’ve done enough. You’ve done plenty.”

“Move!”

“Stop it.”

They scuffled briefly, if you could call it that. Marco blocked Rosario, held him still until he sagged, cried. Therese glanced at Peggy but Peggy never looked up, never stopped the conversation she was having with a man in charge of one of the search teams. The fight between the brothers might not be happening at all.

Marco adjusted his hold, pulled Rosario against him, whispered things Therese couldn’t hear. After a bit he told Rosario to find his jacket and things again or he would fucking freeze. Then he checked the direction his mother had gone, offered a muttered apology for cursing. He left with Rosario a few minutes later, only after yelling for another brother to get down here and “mind things.”

There was more movement, though it felt to Therese like nothing was happening, like a slow motion nightmare. Abby and Rose came back. Angie did too, though she was outside again before Therese could do more than watch her leave. Whichever Martinelli brother was on duty this time took Jacob when Peggy asked. Peggy talked to Rose again.

“The hell with this,” Carol said suddenly. “I’m going out there.”

Peggy, standing over the kitchen table as she and Rose wrote on the same piece of paper, looked up. “It’s not—”

“No. Enough. _Enough_. I am not going to sit here doing nothing for one more fucking minute, do you understand? She’s _my_ daughter and she needs to know that I’m looking for her. Me. She, she will not fucking think that I don’t care, that I don’t care where she is.”

“She doesn’t think that.”

“You don’t know what she thinks. You don’t even know where she is.”

Peggy didn’t argue anymore about Carol leaving. Therese thought this was more about getting Carol out of the way than any impact of Carol’s words.

Sofia reentered the room, found out Carol was leaving.

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head and eyeing Carol up and down. “We’ll find the girls and then you’ll die of pneumonia. Stay, I’ll get proper clothes.”

Carol’s eyes narrowed. That sick feeling that came as soon as Abby said outside the apartment that Carol was gone intensified to unbearable levels. Therese could see everything in the icy gray of Carol’s eyes, much colder than the winds outside. She’d trusted Sofia with Rindy. Rindy was gone now.

“I don’t need anything from you,” Carol said. “I needed one thing from you, the only thing, and you didn’t—”

“Carol…”

Therese took her hand again, but Carol shook it off this time. Therese could not breathe. She understood Carol. She had to believe she understood a little bit, even without a blood connection to Rindy. But Sofia, with her very famous daughter and very famous in-laws, always asked about Therese’s job when they saw each other, always commented on Therese’s latest photos in the paper. She called Therese too thin and sent her home on Sundays with enormous plates of leftovers. The weeks Therese skipped church to stay in with Carol and Rindy, Sofia would say the next time they spoke that she’d missed Therese at service. Not in a cruel way though, not like most of the nuns at school would have. Sofia knew her name was Therese but was just as likely to call her Theresa, and Therese didn’t mind at all, though she’d always minded that before.

Therese could not stand the idea of losing Rindy, couldn’t stand it at all.

She didn’t want to lose Sofia either, and wondered how disloyal that made her, how terrible.

She didn’t have words to calm Carol this time. Carol wasn’t listening to her.

And then Abby was there on Carol’s other side, touching her arm, telling Sofia yes and thank you and they’d love something warmer for Carol.

When Sofia had gone, Carol told Abby that she should’ve been told, they should’ve called her right away, that woman had let her baby disappear. How long had Rindy been gone before that woman even cared enough to notice?

They went back and forth. Abby said something about when we were kids, and Carol snapped at her. Abby didn’t blink, just kept talking to Carol. Therese felt very much as she had when she first met Abby, first saw Abby and Carol interact. Excluded.

She did not mind this time. She did not mind letting Abby be the one to take control of this interaction.

Carol said nothing when Sofia came back with an armful of winter gear. Therese thanked her quietly, half-expected Carol to lash out at her for the show of graitude, but Carol said nothing.

The things Sofia provided were probably the first hand me down items Carol had worn in her life. It was odd seeing her in them, but Carol didn’t remark, only threw them on as fast as possible. Therese barely kept up with her strides as she rushed through the door.

In truth, Therese thought Peggy might be right, that they weren’t helping much. Carol’s search wasn’t ordered in the least. She didn’t know where she was going, and neither of them really knew where the girls would go. Therese wouldn’t dream of saying any of that. She understood the need to do something, anything, she felt it too. She stuck close to Carol, joined her in calling Rindy’s name, Lizzie’s. The deep breaths Therese took to make her voice carry brought icy air with them. Her throat started to hurt quickly.

Was it worse if the girls were out alone in this, freezing? Or if they weren’t out at all, weren’t alone?

Abby followed them. Abby, who hated walking around in snow under normal circumstances trudged through the thick mess of powder and ice and called just as loudly for Rindy and Lizzie.

After one of the times Carol screamed Rindy’s name, Therese had a sudden thought, grabbed Carol’s arm. “Carol.” Her voice was hoarse, barely recognizable. She cleared her throat. “Carol!”

“What?”

Her tone was both impatient and desperately, desperately hopefully She wanted Therese to say that she’d found something, found Rindy, miraculously, when so many others hadn’t. Therese wanted more than anything to say that. What she offered instead felt hollow. “Maybe we should be telling them that they aren’t in trouble.”

Carol’s confusion was obvious.

“When I was a kid, people would sneak out of the school. They’d want to get away for a few hours or they’d try to run permanently, but, but a lot of them were afraid to come back, afraid of being punished.

Carol’s expression changed from confusion to something else. Therese had told her what punishment often meant at that place. “You think she’s afraid of me?”

Carol’s voice, hurt and angry and sickened, was worse than the relentless cold cutting through the layers of Therese’s clothing. “No. I, I don’t know what’s going on Carol, I just, those boys, Adamo and the other one…” The boys who were terrified of a beating.

“I’ve never laid a hand on her! Harge has never—”

“I know.” She didn’t think Lizzie had ever been struck either. She knew the Martinelli siblings had, at least the older ones, knew Peggy had once bragged about someone breaking a switch on her. But Lizzie was a tiny princess even when she was being disciplined for how she acted around Jacob, had probably never even been swatted on the butt. “I’m sorry.”

Carol stood ankle-deep in snow, looked at her. Therese ducked her eyes, feeling stupid in her weak attempts to help. Then she felt Carol’s gloved hand on her face. Thick, practical, rather ugly gloves, not the leather pair left at Therese’s desk years ago. Carol stroked her cheek her mouth opening as if to speak, breath escaping in a fog, but nothing came. Carol turned again, cupped her hands around her mouth.

“RINDY! Rindy, you’re not in trouble, baby! No one’s mad, just come out, tell us where you are!”

It went that way for awhile. Therese didn’t have much sense of time, only of the voices echoing, repeating, none of them belonging to a child. She paused to wipe snow from her eyes and when she looked up Carol had slipped, fallen. Therese said her name, ran as much as she could in this. Carol was still yelling for Rindy, but the message had changed.

“Help! Oh no, I can’t find my baby, where is she?”

Therese stumbled. Carol was going for something like playfulness, as she always did when she used those words. The ones she’d joked with Sofia about last night, the ones that inevitably caused Rindy to pop out from her ill-conceived hiding spot.

“I can’t find my baby! What’ll I do, I can’t find my baby?”

There was nothing playful in Carol’s voice. A hand grasped Therese’s elbow and she found Abby next to her, helping her along.

“Rindy? I can’t find you, sweetheart, it’s time to come out now!”

Carol was crying, her whole body shaking with it. Therese knew that long before getting close enough to touch her. Abby let go of Therese and Therese knelt next to Carol, Abby on the other side. She held on to Carol as best she could, said her name.

“I don’t know where my baby is, I don’t…”

The rest of it got lost on a sob, a horrible cough. Therese thought Carol might make herself sick in the snow and Abby must have too because Abby was telling her to stop, breathe, breathe. Therese said Carol’s name. It was all she could manage. Carol cried and choked, and Therese tried to haul her up and out of the snow but got nowhere.

All she could do was listen to Carol break as chill winds battered the three of them, keep hold of any part of Carol she could reach.

* * *

 Rindy was cold. Colder than she’d ever been in her whole life. She squeezed the tiny wrist that she could barely keep a hold of. At least Rindy had gloves. Lizzie had thrown hers off saying they kept her from making good snowballs.

“Lizzie?” Rindy said, squeezing her wrist again. She couldn’t stand the quiet anymore. She could hear voices, they’d heard those for a long time now, but they were muffled and weird sounding.

Like being underwater, Rindy thought, at Grandpa’s house in Florida where it was always warm.

But it wasn’t water they were under.

“Lizzie.” she repeated. Her throat hurt and her voice had gone funny. She didn’t know whether Lizzie’s had or not, but the voices outside hadn’t heard Lizzie’s yells either. “Lizzie!” she said louder, ignoring the soreness in her throat. She squeezed Lizzie’s wrist as hard as she could said her name again and again.

She’d already cried out for every Martinelli she could think of, for Mommy and Mama, and then Daddy even though Daddy was far away right now.

Rindy whimpered, her breathing going too fast in this too-tight place. She cried and couldn’t wipe the tears away, felt them turn into tiny icicles on her face.

She’d told Lizzie not to fall asleep! How many times had she told her that?

The tears came faster. Why had she let Lizzie keep being mad about the stupid snowball fight with the boys? Why hadn’t she told Lizzie no when she wanted to leave her grandparents’ house? Why hadn’t she told Lizzie to turn around when that boy stopped them, the one who smiled a lot and called Lizzie Miss Liz and had funny breath?

Rindy screamed again, for Mommy or Daddy or someone. She couldn’t be in here by herself, she just couldn’t. The snow was packed too tight and her arm hurt, stretched out in a weird way to keep hold of Lizzie’s wrist, and other things didn’t hurt at all, other things were going numb, like her foot whenever it feel asleep. The people looking for them couldn’t hear them, no matter how loud Rindy cried, and now Lizzie wasn’t saying anything at all, no matter how much Rindy yelled at her to.

They were buried.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

“Where are we going?” Rindy asked again. They’d gone almost two blocks. Rindy hadn’t minded much until Lizzie made a turn and Rindy couldn’t see the Martinelli house anymore. Not that she couldn’t find it again, she could, she was a big girl and not stupid. But not being able to see the house, it made the fluttery, jumpy feeling in her stomach show up, the one she usually got when leaving Mommy’s house for Daddy’s, or the other way round.

“I told you, regrouping, revenge.”

Lizzie could be so difficult sometimes. Rindy rolled her eyes behind Lizzie’s back. “Okay, but how far until we get to the revenge?”

“Not far.”

Rindy almost said they should turn around, that they might get in trouble. Almost.

They went a bit more down the sidewalk before Rindy saw what Lizzie wanted her to. Her eyes widened.

“Tada!” Lizzie yelled.

In front of them was a house that looked much the same as all the others in the neighborhood. In front of that though, taking up half the front yard, was the biggest snow pile Rindy had ever seen. It was much taller than they were. It was like a baby mountain. “How’d this get here?” Rindy asked.

Lizzie grinned. “Mr. Bruno.”

“Who?”

“The snowplow man. He dumps all the snow he can right here.”

“How come?”

“Nonna’s aunt Beatrice lives here.”

“So?”

“So, she was supposed to marry Mr. Bruno a long, long time ago before they were both ancient but she spurned him for someone else and busted his heart in a million-million pieces, so now he dumps snow on her lawn.”

“Really?”

Lizzie shrugged. “That’s what Uncle Angel says.”

Rindy eyed the massive pile. It blocked the driveway. “How’s she get out to go anywhere?”

“She doesn’t, she already left.”

“Where to?”

“To hide out somewhere better than this God forsaken wasteland.”

“What?”

“She goes to Florida for the winter with her boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Her grandparents did that too, but never made it sound as interesting as Lizzie did. And they never had a boyfriend with them. “So what’s the revenge part?”

Lizzie explained how they needed a base to defend, how they would build a fort into the giant snow mountain that the stupid boys couldn’t get into because they were too big.

“Except maybe for Pietro,” she added, “but we can knock his head off with snowballs if he gets too close.”

“How are we going to get them here?”

“I’ll go back and make them run after me and they’ll have to ‘cause Nonna will yell at them if they don’t. You stay here and defend the fort and get the ammo ready. You’re slower.”

Because this was true, Rindy didn’t think of taking it as something mean. “Your aunt won’t mind?”

“She’s in Florida, she won’t mind. Anyway, she says most men are evil diavoli who give women hell and turn their hair white. She’d be happy we’re using her snow pile to get the boys back.”

“She doesn’t like boys? I thought she had a boyfriend?”

Lizzie shrugged. “She’s crazy. The plan’s great though, right?”

Rindy thought so, but she also thought they needed a break from the perils of war, whether or not Lizzie agreed. “Okay, but I want to play something else first.”

“What?”

Lizzie whined for a minute. She wasn’t always good at letting other people pick the games. Her parents would say things to her sometimes, and Mommy would say things to Rindy sometimes about how Lizzie was younger and didn’t always know better and that’s why Rindy had to be patient. Then Mommy usually said the thing about Rindy being an example.

Rindy did not particularly like being an example and thought sometimes that this was just a thing Mommy said to keep Rindy from getting what she wanted.

It was okay this time though, because Lizzie didn’t complain too much when Rindy said she wanted to play mountain climb. Daddy liked mountain climbing. Watching or reading or listening about it, not doing it. Rindy remembered when Daddy told her about the people who were the first to climb Mount Everest. When she’d asked if she could climb it too, Daddy said she could but she’d be very, very cold and he’d rather she stayed here with him where it was warm.

She and Lizzie climbed Mount Everest in crazy Beatrice’s yard. The snow was thick and they pretended to cling to it for dear life and almost fall. They did almost fall a couple times, slipping and sliding but it was fun, not scary. Lizzie pretended to dangle on the brink of death and Rindy pulled her up, laughing when Lizzie fell on top of her.

“I’m king of the mountain!” Rindy yelled when they were both up, standing high on the pile.

“We’re king of the mountain,” Lizzie corrected, taking Rindy’s hand.

“I know, that’s what I meant.” Rindy raised both their hands high. “We’re the first girls to conquer Everest!”

Lizzie looked at her. “Are we?”

“Probably,” Rindy said. Girls never seemed to do any of the fun things first. Except for Aunt Angie, who was Peter Pan and could fly to the top of this mountain, wouldn’t even have to climb.

“Okay,” Lizzie said. Hand still in Rindy’s, she jumped up and down, up and down, her boots making puffs of white in the snow. “We’re the best climbers there ever was!”

Rindy followed along, jumping with Lizzie as hard and high as she could. They laughed and kept at it until Lizzie suddenly slipped. Rindy’s stomach somersaulted as she was left grasping at nothing while Lizzie fell in a heap to the bottom of the pile.

“Lizzie!” Rindy called, trying to get her balance back after nearly being pulled over with Lizzie. Lizzie who wasn’t moving. “Lizzie!”

Lizzie grumbled, sat up. She spat snow out, then wiped it from her jacket. “What? Quit yelling and c’mere, we have to build our base!”

Her tummy going normal again, Rindy listened, slipping and sliding until she was next to Lizzie. Of course Lizzie hadn’t been afraid, she wasn’t afraid of anything. Not going extra high on the monkey bars or going to where she couldn’t see her grandma’s house anymore, or having her parents gone away.

Rindy was older and went to school and knew some school things Lizzie didn’t, but Lizzie was fearless.

They got to work on their base, digging a hole into the pile for them to hide in. The snow was hard and Rindy wondered how Lizzie could move so much of it without gloves, but when Rindy asked if her hands hurt, Lizzie only looked at her funny and asked why they would.

“I don’t know,” Rindy lied because she didn’t want to seem weird. “You think we’re the first ones to build a base right into a mountain?” she asked, changing the subject.

Lizzie shook her head, told a story her mommy and daddy had told her about bad guys during the war who’d done the same thing. “But ours will be better. Mommy and Daddy found the other one, snuck up on the people inside. Nobody’ll find ours ‘til we want them to.”

Rindy wasn’t sure how long it took, but the result was worth it. They dug out a space with room for the two of them, and the collection of snowball ammunition they’d use on the boys. It was like a tiny igloo, Rindy thought, and much better than the treehouse she always asked Daddy for but Daddy said she couldn’t have because she’d fall and get hurt. Daddy was no fun and worried too much sometimes.

“This is great!” Rindy said, clapping her hands together as she and Lizzie explored their creation. “We made it bigger than I thought.”

“Yup. Plenty of room for us, none for stupid boys. What do we call it?”

“Huh?”

“Bases need names.”

“They do?”

“Yes,” Lizzie said like this was very, very obvious. “All the bases my Daddy visited had names. The one where they made him was Camp Knee High.”

Rindy frowned. “Like the stockings? That’s a dumb name for a base.”

Lizzie made a face. She sat across from Rindy with her knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. “They made my Daddy there,” she repeated.

“So? It’s still a stupid name.”

Lizzie shifted, pushed on Rindy’s shoulder. “Aunt Carol says you’re not supposed to say things are stupid.”

Rindy got on her knees, made herself taller than Lizzie, not that that was hard. She pushed Lizzie how Lizzie had pushed her. “Aunt Angie says you’re not supposed to go out without gloves. And Aunt Peggy, and Uncle Steve.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, mirroring Rindy’s position. She pushed Rindy again, this time hard enough to make her fall back. “Aunt Therese says you have to play nice with me. I’m smaller.”

Rindy sat up on her elbows. “So? Aunt Abby says Mama only says that because she’s small too.” Rindy grabbed a handful of snow, threw it at Lizzie’s face.

Lizzie called her a traitor and they wrestled. Rindy was bigger, but Lizzie was faster, always faster. They threw snow at each other, threw themselves, laughing. Rindy got lucky and trapped Lizzie against the wall of the fort, but then Lizzie wriggled around like a fish until she was on top of Rindy.

“Yield!”

“Huh?”

Lizzie sighed. “Say I win.”

Rindy grinned. “I win.”

Lizzie punched Rindy’s arm, not enough to hurt.

“Get off me.”

“Say I win.”

“I did!”

“You’re being dumb. Say I win or I’ll sit on you forever.”

“You will not. You can’t trick the boys here if you do.”

“Say I win or I’ll cry. I’m little.”

“You’re a hypocrite.”

“A what?”

Rindy was pleased to have tripped Lizzie with the word, even if she wasn’t exactly sure what it meant herself. She’d heard Mommy and Daddy yell it a lot at each other. “You get mad if I call you little or if other people do it, but then you do it to get what you want.”

“That’s not hypocrite. Mommy says girls have to use every trick they have to get what they want sometimes, or they’ll have to take lunch orders forever.”

“Didn’t Aunt Angie take lunch orders before she became Peter Pan?” Something Rindy had been told, but still found baffling.

“Just yield or I’ll cry.”

Rindy didn’t think she actually would but was getting tired of being stuck like this. “Fine. I yield, or whatever your dumb word is.”

Lizzie grinned. She started to move, then stopped. She pressed a quick kiss to Rindy’s lips before rolling off her.

“Why’d you do that?” Rindy asked, sitting up.

Lizzie shrugged. “Felt like it.”

“Why?”

“It’s what Mommy and Daddy do after they pretend-fight each other and one of them wins.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence a moment. Then there was a noise, a big noise. And then there was snow coming into their fort.

They looked at each other, crawled to the entrance of their base. There was a snowplow backing away from them. They laughed, threw some of the snow at each other, said there was a giant monster come to attack them but he’d got scared and run away. It wasn’t all that much snow, they could climb around it or dig through it. It was probably good. More snow meant more ammo to use on the boys.

Except then the noise got loud again. The snowplow was coming back.

The second time was too much, only left them a little space. They looked at each other. Rindy started yelling before Lizzie did, that they were there, no, no. But the snowplow man (Lizzie had said his name but Rindy forgot it) didn’t hear, even when Lizzie understood and started yelling too.

More snow came, and then what felt like an avalanche. Or a cave-in.

* * *

 

Rindy couldn’t talk right away. Everything happened fast and she couldn’t see anymore really, couldn’t move. She coughed and coughed, then realized Lizzie wasn’t next to her anymore.

“Lizzie? Lizzie?”

More coughing, not Rindy’s this time. “Rindy?”

“Lizzie! Are you okay?”

“Where are you? I can’t find…”

Did Lizzie sound scared? Lizzie never sounded scared. “I’m here!”

“I can’t see you! Hang on.”

There was nothing to hang on to, no room. Their fort had seemed so big before. “Lizzie?”

“I can, I think I can…”

Rindy heard things she couldn’t identify. It took her a moment to figure out what Lizzie was doing, a moment longer to understand how bad it was. “Lizzie, quit it!”

“I can get us out, I think. I can—”

“Stop it, I said!” Rindy heard half-remembered things Daddy had said about snow. Mostly she thought of Grandpa and the card houses he used to build with her, before he said his hands were too shaky. If you took one card from the middle, the whole thing fell down.

“You yelled at me.”

Was Lizzie actually crying? Maybe. Had Rindy ever yelled at her before, really yelled, not pretending? Maybe not. “I’m sorry. I…just leave it alone, okay? Leave the snow alone.”

“But I can—”

“It might fall on us, Lizzie! It might fall more than it did already and then, and then…” Rindy regretted the words instantly. Lizzie definitely sounded like she was crying now. Rindy shifted as much as she could, realized that whatever Lizzie did, it at least made it so Rindy could reach her now. Kind of reach her. Reach one of her hands, if she stretched really far and twisted her arm some and made it hurt. Rindy did all this, clasped Lizzie’s hand. “Lizzie? I’m sorry. Don’t cry, please.”

“You yelled at me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I know. Me neither.”

“I don’t like it, Rindy!”

“I know, I know.” Lizzie’s hand in hers had gone much tighter. Rindy squeezed it. “Let’s, we just have to make someone find us, that’s all.”

“How?”

This street wasn’t like the one where Mrs. Martinelli lived. There weren’t kids running all over. Maybe it was only old people on this street, old people like Mrs. Martinelli’s aunt. Sometimes old people couldn’t hear very good.

They screamed. A lot. Lizzie screaming was better than Lizzie crying, Rindy decided. They screamed but no one came. Maybe all the old people who couldn’t hear had escaped to Florida, with Beatrice and her boyfriend.

“I wanna go home,” Lizzie said after they’d screamed and screamed and nothing happened, “I wanna go home, Rindy.”

“I know, me too. We will, promise. We will.”

“Stupid Mr. Bruno didn’t hear us. Nobody hears us!”

Lizzie’s whining, fearful voice made Rindy’s stomach hurt worse than it already did. She was older though, she had to be an example, be brave. “They will, they’ll come find us. The boys will, or—”

“I want my Mama!”

It was a wail and it hurt Rindy’s ears, made her stomach flip flop and her chest go tight. Everything was tight in here. Then Lizzie did the thing that always annoyed Rindy and started talking too fast in Italian. Rindy heard ‘Mama’ again, but that was it. She’d tried to get Mommy to teach her Italian but Mommy only knew French.

Rindy wanted Mommy. Mommy said she’d come when the snowplows worked, so Mommy had to come soon, right?

“They’ll find us, Lizzie,” Rindy said over the crying. She tried to sound like the grownups did when they were being grown up and fixing things. “My Mommy will come and she’ll look for me, and, and she’ll call Aunt Peggy and Aunt Angie. And, and Aunt Peggy is practically a superhero too, right, even though nobody gives her cartoons or comics, right?”

“Yeah,” Lizzie said after a moment, on a sniffle.

“She’ll find us. If her and Uncle Steve found that other fort in that other mountain, they’ll find this one, right?”

“Yeah…”

Rindy breathed, swallowed the tears that wanted to come. This wasn’t like hiding in one of the big cabinets at Mommy’s shop and waiting to see how long before Mommy or Aunt Abby found her, but she had to pretend it was. She didn’t want Lizzie getting too scared. She didn’t want Lizzie getting impatient and trying to dig them out. “What should we call the fort?”

“What?”

“The fort, remember? It needs a name.”

“The fort’s busted, Rindy.”

“I know. But it still needs a name. For the story.”

“Story?”

“Yeah. Aunt Peggy and Uncle Steve have stories and now, now we will too. The story of the big, ugly robot monster that came into our fort. But it needs a name, still. What should we call it?”

“I don’t know…”

Lizzie was always so confident, sometimes bossy. Rindy didn’t like this new Lizzie who needed her to be the confident one. “If Uncle Steve came from Camp Knee High, can we have a Camp Slipper?”

A pause. Then, “No. That’s stupid, Rindy.”

Rindy smiled. That was better.

They went back and forth about names. Rindy thought up the most ridiculous ones she could, hoping to make Lizzie laugh. It worked sometimes. They practiced how they would tell the story, took turns adding bits and pieces. Rindy had just finished attacking the evil robot plow with a catapult built from snow. She waited for Lizzie’s addition.

“Lizzie?” she asked when nothing came.

Lizzie yawned, grumbled something Rindy couldn’t hear.

“Lizzie?” Rindy squeezed her hand as hard as she could. “Lizzie!”

“What? ‘m tired, Rindy.”

Tired. Lizzie always got tired if she was in cold for too long. It was weird, Rindy had always thought. It was bad, Rindy thought now. “Lizzie. I think we should yell again. Lizzie!”

“What?” She sounded drowsy and annoyed. “Why? No one heard.”

“Someone might now. Come on.”

“You do it then. I don’t feel like it.”

“Lizzie. We have to stay awake.”

“Why?”

Why. Why? Rindy tried to think. She remembered Daddy telling her about the mountain climbers and how sleeping was bad when it was too cold. Why, though? All she could remember was Daddy and Grandma and Hargess, stop talking to her about that nonsense, you’ll scare her. Rindy hadn’t been scared though. Not then.

So, why? Because Daddy said it was bad. And Uncle Steve had flown a plane into cold, cold water and gone to sleep and been asleep a long time. Rindy didn’t want to sleep for a long time, and she didn’t want Lizzie to either. But if she said this, would Lizzie cry again?

“Because I said.”

Rindy heard Lizzie laughing at her. “So?”

“So I’m older.”

“So?”

“So, because I sad so.”

“You’re being stupid.”

“So, you still have to listen to me.”

“Don’t.”

“Do.”

“Don’t.”

When Rindy argued this again and got no response, felt Lizzie’s grip on her hand loosening, she took in a big breath of cold air. “Elizabeth Abigail Rogers! You stay awake because I’m older and you have to listen to me and, and that’s that!”

“You’re stupid,” Lizzie said after a moment. “That’s not even my middle name.”

Rindy knew this. It was her own middle name, the only one she could think of at the moment. “Just stay awake. Please?”

“Why?”

Why did she have to keep asking that? “You really want to take a nap in the middle of the day like Jacob? You really want to be a baby?”

“Shut up,” Lizzie grumbled.

“No one will believe we chased away the robot monster if they find you sleeping like a little baby.”

“I’m _tired_ ,” Lizzie said in that whiney voice. “I’m tired and I want Mama.”

“I know. But please, please, pretty please stay awake.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be by myself,” Rindy said, not saying how much the thought terrified her. That’s not what brave people did. “Please, Lizzie?”

The pressure on Rindy’s hand increased. “Okay, Rindy.”

* * *

 

“Blondie there’s gonna pop a gasket,” said Dugan, bringing his fifth drink to his lips.

“Hey, my gaskets are in perfectly good order, thank you very much.” Betty took the bowler hat from his head, placed it at an angle over her curls.

“Not you, the ugly blonde. Not you, Cap," He cleared his throat, obviously hiding laughter, and inclined his head towards the glass window that served as a wall between this room and the rest of the office, "the other ugly blonde.”

Steve swore at him, taking his own drink and sparing the agents in question a glance. They’d taken over some Pennsylvania field office, if you could even give the place that much credit. Calling it SHIELD seemed to be glamourizing a barn.

Betty called it quaint, Dugan called it a closet. “Maybe that’s why you like it,” he’d said to his wife as they came across it, tucked away amongst rows of businesses that seemed like they were outdated when Steve was a kid. “You do have experience with closets.”

They were outgrowing Lehigh by leaps and bounds, they needed a secondary base of operations. A bigger base, at least bigger than this closet in Pennsylvania.

With a list of locations in hand, Dugan had been sent to scout them out for suitability. Which meant Betty had gone with, taking Peggy's place while the Brit was still on maternity leave.

Steve's official role there was to examine the locations for defensibility , but all three knew he was being kicked out of the house for a few days to get away from the little ones he spent all day, every day with, and to give his wives alone time.

Dugan's choice of the locations checked was an Italian restaurant, chosen because “them guys got a raw deal during the war,” and their food was fantastic, they all had to admit. He’d bitched when Steve pointed out the flaws in the building’s placement, and how terribly it'd go if anything were to happen.

Betty voted for a medium-sized motel because there was a lounge, perfect for talented, pretty singers, and because she’d always have a bed available upstairs when Peggy was working them too hard.

Steve personally was more inclined to go with the radio station, if only for communications possibilities. He doubted Peggy would choose to spend much time there though.

They were still deciding between the new locations when the storm hit, along with news of a much bigger storm hitting in New York. They couldn’t agree on a base, but they decided easily that they did not want to drive home in that mess.

So came the tiny closet of an office, in a tiny one horse town, staffed by agents with scuffed shoes, and baby faces.

“You know what they’re looking at,” Betty said, perching herself on the long conference table in front of Steve and Dugan, “they never saw a beard with a mustache before.” She patted Dugan’s cheek, took his beer and drank from it as Steve laughed and shook his head.

"Jesus, this is why we're monitored. I swear." Steve resisted the urge to flip off one of the agents through the glass, watching him chatter away on the phone while staring at them. He could listen in if he wanted to but he did not want to. The amusement of relaying what the agents outside were saying about them had long since faded. Dugan though was still betting on whether or not one of them would be ballsy enough to come sniffing for an autograph. And it looked like Steve was about to lose money.

Shit.

The man on the phone had hung up, was approaching. He knocked, looking slightly ill.

Dugan eyed him through the glass, snorted. “Pay up, Cap.”

“Don’t owe you a thing if he keeps his mouth shut.”

Betty laughed, called him cheap.

They stared at each other through the glass, the man waiting for one of them to gesture him inside. None of them did.

Finally the man gave up, though not in the way Steve wanted him to. He poked his head in. “Mr., er, Agent Rogers—”

Dugan rolled his eyes. “Captain, son. It’s right there on the comic book covers. And in the movie credits. And on the cartoons. And—”

“Be nice,” Betty said, though she was laughing openly.

“I’m always nice.”

“Captain Rogers, sir. Sorry to interrupt, sir, but—”

“You didn’t salute,” said Dugan.

“I…sorry?”

“You should be sorry. Call yourself a representative of the U.S. government. Don’t you know there’s a law about saluting when you see Captain America?”

“Don’t tell him to do that. Don’t do that,” said Steve, though the man’s hand was already half-raised, left awkward and hanging.

“Aint me pal, it’s the law.”

“Sir, I’m very sorry. Agent Roberts is on the phone, sir, or she was. She—”

“You tell Rosie to tell Peggy that we are working ourselves ragged already,” Betty said, hopping from the table to recline in one of the chairs, “and that if she wants anything else from me, she at least owes me dinner.”

“I, ma’am, I—”

“Ma’am?” Betty shuddered. “I should’ve stayed home. ‘Oh just one little favor, darling,’ she says. Next thing you know I’m running around Germany defusing bombs because you idiots only know how to blow things up, not not-blow them up.”

“Oh yeah, poor Betts, you aint never recovered,” said Dugan, stealing his hat from her head and tossing it to Steve. Steve tossed it to the junior agent and told him to catch. He didn’t.

“Lord,” said Betty. “This is what Pegs and Howard are recruiting? And I thought it was bad when they started stealing gals from munitions factories in Canada. Just messing with you doll, don’t take it personal. And don’t call me ma’am again.”

“Yes ma’am, I,” the man was fumbling with the hat, trying to pick it up and dust it off. “Captain Rogers? I’m very sorry to interrupt sir, but it’s your daughter, sir.”

“Excuse me?” Steve said. Everything in the room changed, turned sharp, heavy.

“I said, your daughter, sir, I—”

“What about her?” Steve asked, snapped really.

“Well she’s, she’s missing, sir.”

“Excuse me?” Steve said again, much, much quieter.

“I’m, I’m sorry, sir.”

“Who said missing?” Steve stood up. “Were those your words or hers?” He was listening now, to every word in the jumble of calls going in and out of the office. Listening for Rose’s voice, though he knew she’d hung up.

“Hers, Captain, sir. And, and…”

“And what? Talk.”

“And her friend, sir. Um, Cindy? They’re, they’re both missing.”

* * *

 

Rindy was tired. Exhausted. She’d yelled and yelled, made Lizzie yell and yell. Now her throat hurt. And her chest. And Lizzie was asleep.

“Lizzie.” Rindy squeezed her hand anyway, hard hard hard. “Lizzie you promised.”

She got nothing back.

“You promised,” Rindy whimpered, fresh, hot tears staining her freezing cheek. “I don’t want to be by myself.”

But she was. She’d tried to keep Lizzie yelling, keep her telling stories or singing songs, keep them awake. She thought she heard voices, faint and funny. They had to be at least sort of close or she wouldn’t hear them. None of them heard her. Her and Lizzie too, at first, and then just her because she’d messed up, let Lizzie drift away from her.

What if Lizzie slept years and years now, like Uncle Steve? What if she never stopped sleeping?

Rindy had tried for awhile to move around as much as she could, when she felt things on her body start going to sleep. She didn’t feel like it anymore. It was hard enough just holding Lizzie’s hand.

Rindy blinked, again and again. She couldn’t decide if she could still hear the voices or not. She felt funny, like she did when she fell asleep in front of the TV but wasn’t all the way asleep. It was hard to tell what was a dream and what was real.

Rindy closed her eyes. She thought of Mommy and her warm fur coat, how it felt against Rindy’s cheek when she hugged her.

Mommy was supposed to come and get her.

Rindy thought this, and then the fort collapsed around her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chap was posted while AO3 was spazzing, so you might want to double-check that you’re all caught up. Read: me being sad and insecure over fewer comments last time. Keep the comments coming, people, I am but a lowly bisexual writing about pretty people, who needs constant validation. 
> 
> And with that bit of whine out of the way, onward!

“Here, let me,” said Therese. The teacup in Carol’s hand shook badly enough that both of them might burn themselves. Therese braced Carol’s wrist, held it steady.

Carol nodded at her, but nothing else. Her voice had gone rough from yelling, coughing. The tea was meant to help, except Carol wasn’t drinking it. They were huddled again on the Martinelli’s couch, surrounded by people Therese knew and many more she didn’t. Everyone was here, it seemed, save the ones who needed to be.

Carol continued to stare into her tea as though she didn’t know what it was. Or maybe she was searching for leaves at the bottom, hoping to divine Rindy’s location. Therese fidgeted, made sure Carol had a proper grip on the cup before standing, edging past one of Angie’s brothers to get to the front window.

There, at least, were possibilities, the hope that someone might come dashing into view bringing the girls with them. And then Therese could be the one to tell Carol that Rindy was back, she was okay. Therese could erase that broken look from her face.

It was as it had been since Therese arrived, people coming and going, people with maps and shovels and thermoses of coffee. Rindy’s name was on the wind, Lizzie’s too.

If the girls could answer, wouldn’t they have done it already? If they were near enough, or capable of answering, wouldn’t they?

Therese pushed the thought from her mind.

She watched the scene outside, infuriated by it’s sameness. Nothing was happening, and the girls still weren’t home, and what would Therese do because she didn’t think she could stand to watch it anymore, watch everything being the same, but she certainly couldn’t go back and sit quietly as Carol crumbled in front of her.

There were other options, Therese knew this logically, besides Carol and this window. She couldn’t think what they were and worried she might scream as Carol had before. She closed her eyes and bit her tongue. The scream stayed in. The tears still threatened.

And then she heard a noise that was, miracle of miracles, different from the ones she’d heard for hours, from the men calling for Lizzie and Rindy, from the bloodhounds howling.

An engine. A very loud engine.

Therese opened her eyes. The biggest Jeep she’d ever seen was speeding toward the Martinelli house.

It stopped far too quickly for most vehicles, sliding into a spot at the curb, kicking up snow in a flurry reminiscent of the storm that had deposited it in the first place.

The first one out of the car was a tiny blonde woman who leapt from the passenger side, holding onto the hand of a very large blond man who followed after her.

The door slammed with a crack behind them.

From the driver’s side climbed Steve, slamming the door behind him with a thunderous noise. His eyes searched the house and she could swear they caught hers for a moment, making her stomach icy.

"Steve's here." she managed, voice quieter than she'd like.

"Che cosa? Già?" Angie's brother nudged her as he peered out the window, his hand on her waist, chin on her shoulder briefly as he looked. He turned his head away from her at least before he yelled, "'Mama! Steve's here! And he brought the blonds."

The front door flew open. Steve stood there with flecks of snow in his hair and an unbuttoned jacket that did not suit the weather. He’d gotten out of the car last but entered the house first, with ‘the blonds’ following.

Therese didn’t recognize the woman right away, not until the big man with the mustache told her to get inside, “it’s colder out here than our marital bed.” Mrs. Dugan, then. Therese had seen glimpses of her at Jacob’s baptism months ago. Rather ridiculously, the first thing she thought upon seeing Dugan himself was that he no longer looked like Santa Claus, despite the snow covering him. He’d played Santa the first time she met him. Now he was missing the beard, and the bowler hat she usually saw him in.

Somehow that was the cherry on top of all this wrongness, Dugan missing that stupid hat.

The room was silent for long moments. Steve’s eyes landed on everyone, lingered on Peggy, who was in the kitchen with Angie, Mrs. Martinelli and the baby.

“Where is she?” he asked in a tone that made Therese check to see that the door was closed, that there wasn’t freezing wind blowing inside. When she looked back, Steve’s gaze was on Carol, briefly, before finding Peggy again. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

Peggy held his stare long enough to admit this, then lowered her eyes. It wasn’t fear, Therese thought, not from Peggy. Shame?

She didn’t have time to figure it out. One of Angie’s brothers called out to Steve, apologized, he hadn’t meant to leave them alone. Someone else spoke up and then everyone was talking at once, the room an explosion of noise and confusion. She saw Steve nod a few times, say things she couldn’t hear. People were crowding in on him and Therese got jostled, nearly knocked into an end table. She saw Carol coming toward her, looking angry.

“Everyone shut the hell up!”

Steve’s voice boomed through the overcrowded house. Therese wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him yell. Now she heard nothing. The place had gone silent.

Silent until Jacob let out a giant, piercing war wail and began squirming in Peggy’s arms.

The Dugans set about banishing most everyone outside. Therese and Carol were exceptions, Lizzie’s parents, obviously, and Mrs. Martinelli because no one seemed brave or stupid enough to try moving her. Rose, who Therese hadn’t even seen before despite her distinctive red curls, left too, to “wrangle the troops.” Abby stayed, though Therese didn’t think she was supposed to.

Steve stood where he was, his feet shoulders-width apart, back straight, unmoving as the crowd around him dissipated.  Waiting stone-faced until it was quiet, the room narrowed down to only those that were needed. Then he looked to Angie, features shifting, though his body stayed still. Almost unnaturally so, she thought.

“You know where this kid saw them last?” he asked, voice still cool.

Angie nodded, quiet for once.

"Show me," he commanded and Therese almost expected Angie to give him one of her looks, and an 'excuse me, soldier boy? Was that an order?'

"I gotta get my winter things back on first," was all the response that was given.

"Go. Do it fast.”

Angie went.

"She can show you exactly." Peggy told him, shifting Jacob in her arms as the baby twisted and turned as best he could, trying to see his father. "I think Angelo Sr was going to look near there, he may be waiting."

"Good." Steve nodded, hands thrust into his pockets, "Dugan," he swiveled a little at the waist, but remained where he stood, feet planted, "Scale of choir boy to Russian soldier, where you at?"

Dugan sniffed, scratched his chin, "I ain't feelin' the cold so much, but my hands are steady enough."

"We'll trade," Mrs. Dugan interrupted, "I'm steadier, and I fit in smaller places. Shut it, husband."

"Not a word, my honeyblossom." Dugan replied as stone faced as Steve, and Therese wondered if she was going insane.

"I'll go with you," Carol suddenly stepped forward, away from Abby and Therese.

Steve barely spared her a glance, "No."

"I'm going with you, she's my daughter." Carol insisted, a dark look on her face

"You'll be in the way," Steve said, not even looking at her this time. "Betty, get a better coat, you’ll be with me. Dugan, you can help Carter set up."

"She's my daughter."

"And?" Steve sounded unmoved, and it made Therese wince. "That doesn't stop you being a waste out there."

"A waste? I'm, she's my daughter, Steve!"

"That doesn't mean anything for a rescue. Stay here, out of the way."

"I'm not abandoning her!"

Steve snorted, cleared his throat, turned away from her. "Carter, how quickly can you set up a medwing?"

Peggy watched him for a moment, bouncing Jacob in place. "Ten minutes."

“Good. You and Dugan work on that. Set for two. Blizzard, rookie conditions."

“What the hell does that mean?" Carol asked, demanded really.

"It means there's snow and kids who don't know what to do in it."

"No, that snort. What does that mean?"

"Just stay here, Carol."

"What the fuck does it mean?"

"It means things are already screwed and I don’t need you screwing them up worse, so stay here and shut up."

Steve still hadn’t moved, but Carol advanced on him. “How fucking dare you? If you think—”

“I can sit here listening to you, or I can go out there and find our children. Guess which one I’m not going to do?”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Angie is and so is she.” Carol gestured angrily at Mrs. Dugan.

“Angie knows the way and Betty knows how to be quiet in snow.”

“I—”

“No, you don’t, Carol. You have no idea what the hell you’re doing, and a couple ski trips to Vermont don’t change that. So shut up and stop endangering your child.”

Carol went pale. Therese took her hand and said Steve’s name, to no effect.

“Endangering my child?” Carol repeated, low and falsely calm. “I am not going to sit here uselessly while—”

“What do you care about more, your feelings, or Rindy’s safety?”

“You bastard.”

“You can sit here pouting while maybe actually doing something helpful, or you can go out there to make yourself feel better. But you will be making it harder for me to hear, which means you’ll put your child and mine in more danger. And that’s not going to happen, I don’t care how much you think you have to make up for. Get over it or save it for another time, but don’t keep wasting mine or theirs.”

Therese squeezed Carol’s hand hard, half-sure she was going to strike him, as she had once before. Abby touched Carol’s shoulder, started talking at the same time Carol did. Steve spoke too, but all three of them wound up being drowned out.

“Steven.” Mrs. Martinelli’s voice carried over everything else. “Ti stai comportando come una puntura. Knock it off.”

“Sofia—”

“The only man allowed to be an asshole in my kitchen is my husband, and he’s not here. So watch your mouth.”

Angie returned as Steve and her mother were staring each other down. She took one look between them, crossed to Peggy, and took Jacob in her gloved hands. She thrust the baby at Steve, forcing Steve to hold him. Jacob shrieked gleefully and reached for his dad.

Abby pulled Carol back a few steps, which forced Therese along with her. Therese still hadn’t let go of Carol’s hand. Abby whispered things Therese didn’t catch. She saw Angie and Peggy huddled around Steve, Peggy with one hand on Steve’s neck, the other on Jacob’s side. They too were murmuring indistinctly.

It reminded Therese, absurdly, of the boys at school when they played football, clustered together whispering about things Therese neither cared about or understood. Carol made a strange noise that wasn’t quite a sob. Steve’s posture relaxed very, very slightly as he held Jacob.

Carol wiped her eyes, broke away from Abby. “Sofia, I—”

“Shut up, Carolina. And ignore him. He’s worried, not himself.”

“I—”

“Shut it, I said. Carolina, go warm up some water. Abby, there’s towels in the hall closet, get them. Therese, get upstairs to the twins’ room. Dresser on the right side has Patrizia’s clothes. Get those, warm ones, ignore her if she whines.”

Therese could only nod, mutter a quiet “yes ma’am” as she exchanged looks with Carol and Abby.

“And you, Mr. big soldier man.” Sofia eyed Steve. “Quit barking on your hind legs. Get your ass outside and find those babies.”

* * *

"Hey, watch it, dollface. Can't have all the girls falling for me, what would my husband think?"

Betty caught Angie by the elbow before she could faceplant into the snow. She nodded her thanks as the sky darkened.

On any other day Steve would’ve caught her, at least asked after her, but he was silent, his eyes half-closed as he followed her.

“I'm not allowed to feel up other women unless it's in front of him," Betty linked her arm through Angie's for a moment, "Though I'm sure there's exceptions."

Steve cleared his throat, picking up the pace as they approached the spot Adamo had last seen the girls. There was a small group spread out nearby already, Angie's father among them.

“Steve," Angelo Sr inclined his head in acknowledgement, breath coming shortly and in puffs of white in the cold air. He'd been working hard searching, Angie was sure.

“Sir. I need you to do what you can to keep everyone quiet,” was all Steve said, surveying the area.

There were shovels, the crunch of snow, people calling out her baby’s name. Angie shivered under her heavy coat, the sight of Angelo Sr. doing more to break her than anything else had. “It’s getting dark, Papa.”

“I know, bambina.”

“She can’t be out in the dark. She’s not afraid of it, she’s not…but they can’t be out in the dark.”

“I know.” He pulled her into his much larger body, kissed her forehead. “They won’t be.”

“I call them Lost Girls,” said Angie. Because of _Peter Pan_. Jesus, she’d called them that last night.

“They’re not, bambina. We’re gonna find them.”

As her Papa waved the others over, Angie saw that Marco and Rosario were with him. Rosario's face was red, eyes as well, and something told her it wasn't just from the cold.

“I, Steve, I...” Rosario said, his voice cracking. “I—”

“Quiet. Not now.” Steve's reply had Rosario stepping back and into Marco by mistake, eyes cast to the ground.

Steve walked past the brothers without another word and Angie didn’t have time to comfort them, not if she wanted to keep pace with Steve’s strides. He'd talk to them later, Angie was sure.

But right now they were alive, safe, in front of them.

The girls weren't.

Her baby wasn't.

They walked, paced really, in one direction then another, sometimes retracing their steps. There was no rhyme or reason that Angie could see, though she knew it had to be there. There had to be some reason why Steve was so restless, so uncertain in his direction.

Her dad was a very capable man, but even he couldn’t render an entire army of worried Italians silent. Sometimes a particularly loud noise would find them and Steve would toss his head in irritation. Like a horse, Angie thought, but wouldn’t say it. Once distracted, he'd pause in place, head tilted slightly and close his eyes, frozen perfectly still before starting off again.

It was brutally cold, and Angie was using so much energy just to keep up with Steve and keep her shit together that she wasn't focusing on their location. She didn’t realize they’d reached her Aunt Beatrice’s property until they were practically on top of it. She hadn’t thought of the woman at all during the search, hadn’t seen her since just after Jacob’s birth. As a rule, Beatrice was on the first plane to sunnier shores after Thanksgiving, then caked in suntan lotion until April. No one was at her house, unless some little punks were trying to screw around with it.

Steve’s stride lengthened considerably the nearer they got, until it was a jog that most would have to sprint to match. Angie tried to follow but was held back by Betty who linked an arm around her waist. Angie watched for long seconds as Steve did nothing, just stared at the enormous snowdrift taking up the lawn, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Just as she was starting to understand, Steve moved, climbing up a small bank, and plunging his hand down through the pile.

* * *

 

Rindy tried to scream as the fort fell in on her again, showering her with snow. She coughed instead. Snow hit her face, got into her mouth, and the cold air she was breathing already suddenly became painful. Then she was being lifted, up and out, almost dizzyingly quick.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Tired and terrified, Rindy squinted, the dim light almost blinding. “Uncle Steve?”

“Yeah, Rindy.” Steve's arms were cold too, as he held her out and checked her over quickly, braced in the snow to lift her.

“Lizzie. Uncle Steve, Uncle Steve, Lizzie—”

“I know," He turned, let out a whistle. "McRae.”

Uncle Steve handed her out to a small blonde lady with snowflakes coating her hair and Rindy panicked, couldn’t help it. “No! No! Uncle Steve!”

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay, she’s okay. You’re okay, baby girl.”

Aunt Angie was there suddenly, stroking Rindy’s hair and sounding like it wasn’t okay, sounding very, very scared.

“It’s alright, kiddo,” said the lady Rindy didn’t know. “I'm a good guy. I'm married to Santa." The way she said it sounded like it was meant to be funny, but Rindy was too afraid, too confused, to understand.

Aunt Angie took her jacket off and put it on Rindy, ignoring comments from the others. Rindy, sluggish and numb, tried to twist in the lady’s arms. She was turning away from the fort, but Rindy still saw Uncle Steve drop down into the space she’d been in, shoving aside snow before grabbing something, standing up.

Lizzie. He was holding Lizzie.

“Oh God.” Aunt Angie left Rindy’s side so Rindy couldn’t see her anymore. “Oh Jesus, Steve—”

“I know. McRae. Angie, Angie let Betty take her, she’s faster."

"You're fastest." Aunt Angie almost sounded like she was pleading. Rindy kept trying to see, but the lady turned her away.

"Lizzie's lighter, I'm stronger."

"Aunt Angie?" Rindy's voice cracked as she was briefly handed over again, a game of musical chairs.

Angie ignored her, “Steve, she’s not moving.”

“I know that. Run like the devil's at you, Betty. You run like hell.” he told the lady, and Rindy tried to figure it out even as the lady replied something about death himself giving orders.

Then she was in Uncle Steve's arms again, his coat opened around her to let in the warmth as he zipped it over her.

Uncle Steve tucked her deeper against his chest so Rindy couldn’t see much in the fading light.

“Rindy?” he said, his voice making his chest rumble against Rindy’s ear. “Lizzie ever tell you about our morning runs?”

“Yes," Rindy said, barely heard herself. Her face felt funny and her teeth knocked together. Even her eyes felt cold.

“Get ready, okay kiddo? You and me are going for a run.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	7. Chapter 7

**“Agent Thompson, do you know what the smell of herring in the air means in the middle of a Belarussian summer?”**

**“Mmm. Someone's having a fish fry.”**

**“It means there is wind blowing in from the Baltic. It means a snow storm in July, and if you can smell the wind, it means you have 30 minutes to find shelter and build a fire before you die of hypothermia in the morning. I know all of this because I've been there.”**

**-Peggy Carter, Agent Carter  Season 1, The Iron Ceiling**

*******

Therese swallowed down the guilt as she finished stoking the Martinellis fireplace, spreading a pleasant warmth through the room. It wasn’t right to be warm when the girls might be cold. Beyond cold.

Therese swallowed again.

Jacob had been taken upstairs. Therese thought this a good thing. He’d turned angry and inconsolable when Steve left him after so brief a time. His indignant, desperate wails hurt her chest far more than her ears.

Done with the fire, Therese took in the rest of the room. The tasks Peggy and Sofia had assigned them were long finished. Ten minutes, Peggy said, to set up a medwing. That was over half an hour ago. Now there was fussing over things that were already done, an endless search for more blankets, more towels. Busywork. Therese half-wished she were outside with Rose, helping to convince people to go home. The space, comfortably warm seconds earlier, was stifling now.

She looked at her watch. Close to forty minutes now, since the others left.

Her heart beat too fast, sweat threatening to break out.

“They’ll be back soon.”

Therese jumped, unsure how she could’ve missed the big man’s approach. Dugan apologized for scaring her and Therese tried to smile.

“They’ll be okay,” he said, looking at everything Therese was, their improvised ER. “All this,” he nodded at the blankets, the displaced furniture, “Cap’s just bein’ optimistic.”

Therese looked at him. “A medwing is optimistic?”

“Yes,” he said, not breaking her gaze.

Oh.

The optimism lay in the assumption that they’d need it. That the girls would be found. That if they were found, they wouldn’t be beyond help.

Therese had to look away from him.

Abby was in Therese’s earlier place by the window, watching for any sign of return. Therese heard her swear and speak one or two words before everything exploded.

The door burst open, loudly enough to make Therese jump again, her heart beating a rough, dizzying rhythm against her chest. She saw Steve, covered in snow. Everything happened very quickly and she saw something odd in the shape of his jacket. He was holding someone there, zipped inside like an improvised sling.

Someone.

Rindy.

“Carter,” he said, and only that. Level, but urgent.

“Rindy!”

Peggy was closer to the door. Not by much, but she was also faster than Carol. Probably still faster, even with her body healing from childbirth. Carol still got their first, was there, it seemed to Therese, before she’d finished calling her daughter’s name.

“Over here.”

 Peggy completely ignored Carol as Steve stepped around her got rid of his coat, set the trembling bundle he carried down on a table they’d carted into the living room. Therese wasn’t sure where it came from, but it put Rindy sitting at waist level to Peggy who unwrapped her with ease, dodging Carol’s searching hands.

Desperate, Therese knew. Carol was so, so desperate.

Therese, with monumental effort, forced herself to stay back, keep from crowding in as Peggy worked, though she couldn’t stop herself from calling to Rindy, letting her know she was there. She found herself gladder than ever that most of the Martinellis had been cleared out and sent home, told there was nothing more they could do that Steve couldn’t. At least she could stay in Rindy’s sight, see what was happening.

Never tiring of making Therese blush, Angie had regaled her with story after story of how quick Peggy was with her hands, how extraordinarily good she was at stripping someone down. If Therese had ever disbelieved her, she couldn’t now. Rindy’s coat—Angie’s coat, when had Rindy gotten that--was off in seconds, and then Rindy’s smaller jacket after that. The small part of Therese that was capable of worrying about anything else caught unpleasantly at the thought of Angie out there without a coat.

She heard noises, close but very distant, feet on stairs. Sofia’s voice. She’d herded the children upstairs earlier, was yelling at them to stay there now.

“Location?” Peggy’s words were clearly directed to Steve, though she looked at Rindy, stripping her gloves off and letting her fingertips trail over small, shaking hands.

“About three feet under, small foxhole. Cave-in.”

“Like Geiger in Belarus?” This came from Dugan who took the coats Peggy handed him, put them into a basket Sofia had brought them earlier.

“Just about like that,” Steve said. “Too deep for my liking.”

Rindy cried as Peggy touched her bare fingers. Carol stepped forward and so did Dugan, tossing the gloves in the basket with the wet clothes.

He was playing interference, Therese realized after a moment, putting himself between Carol and Peggy, just enough she couldn’t pick up her own child, couldn’t hold her.

Therese was not cold, but she shook then, a quick, hard tremor that went up and down her spine, went everywhere.

Rindy’s mouth worked, slow and strained, filled with effort. “I want my Mommy!” she finally managed, the words tumbling from frozen lips.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. Mommy’s right here, Mommy’s here.”

Carol was scared to death, trying to hide it from Rindy. Therese would’ve run to her if she weren’t sure she’d be brushed away by Dugan, if she weren’t unsure whether or not Carol would even notice her presence.

Dugan gently nudged Carol to the other side of the table, where she could talk to Rindy, and see her, but nothing more. “Evac?”

Peggy frowned as she pulled Rindy’s sweater off, taking her T-shirt and undershirt with it. Rindy cried out again, squirmed as much as she could. Peggy didn’t react. “Heart?”

“Too slow,” Steve answered promptly. “Breathing too. Picked up since we moved, though.”

Peggy nodded, reached out again. Rindy flinched away from her.

“It’s okay, darling," Peggy's voice was reassuring, Therese supposed, but not to a child this terrified.

“It hurts!”

“I know. I’m sorry, but it’ll stop hurting when we get you out of these wet clothes, get you warm.” Peggy reached out. Rindy flinched. Peggy shifted her gaze, briefly, from Rindy. “Carol," Peggy said simply, reaching out with her words while her hand stilled.

“Mommy, it hurts! Make it stop!”

Rindy was demanding. Begging. Therese wasn’t sure how she could do both at once, but hearing it happen made her stomach roll.

“Let,” Carol had to stop as her voice broke. Her hands were clenched white on the table. “Let Aunt Peggy see you, baby. She won’t hurt you. Peggy would never hurt you.”

Carol kept her eyes on Peggy's when she said the words. Reconnecting what had been broken between them all day? Extracting a promise that the words weren’t lies? Therese didn’t know which. Maybe both. Their eyes held.

“Mommy no, it hurts!”

“Mommy.. Mommy won’t let anyone hurt you, baby, not ever."

"Make her stop," Rindy hiccupped, crying but oddly, Therese noticed, not producing any real tears.

"I promise, Rindy, okay, I promise. Aunt Peggy's going to make sure you're okay. That's all."

"Of course, I won't hurt you Rindy, I'm trying to help."

"See? It's okay, sno--sunshine."

Peggy had started moving as soon as Carol spoke, kept at it while Rindy protested. She took a bundle from Dugan, who’d taken it from a separate basket. Rindy was half-dressed before the argument stopped. She swam in clothes that obviously came from some Martinelli boy, shook in them as though she were being battered by freezing ocean waves.

“Can you flex your fingers, Nerinda?”

The response was an attempted scowl that failed miserably. “I-I’m R-Rindy!”

“So you are. Flex your fingers. Curl them around mine,” Peggy added when Rindy only blinked in return.

Rindy tried, a look of concentration on her face Therese saw even as she relaxed into the blanket that Dugan wrapped around “My hands feel fuzzy.”

“Okay, how about your toes? Can you wriggle them? Dugan, remember Belarus?” Peggy turned her head to address him, hands over Rindy’s feet, the snow boots having been tossed aside.

“Geiger damn near bit it, yeah.”

“Remember Barnes right before Steve’s birthday?”

“Barnes.” Dugan’s eyes left hers, found Steve’s, lingered.

Peggy turned back to Rindy. “All right, we know that you’re Rindy, not Nerinda. When’s Rindy’s birthday?”

Rindy still looked at Peggy as if she’d been betrayed. “F-far away.”

“When?”

“Aug-Aug-August twentieth.”

“That’s right,” Peggy said like she might have forgotten. “Maybe you’ll finally get that puppy on your birthday, hmm?”

Rindy, who’d pined for a puppy since before Christmas, brightened slightly at this. “You think?”

“Anything’s possible, you’re a very good girl. What noise does a puppy make? Do you know?”

Rindy let out a strangled, quiet version of a bark, looked annoyed to be doing it. Therese almost could’ve laughed.

“How many fingers?” Peggy asked, holding up three. They didn’t shake at all, and Therese didn’t understand how that was possible.

“Th-th-three.”

“Good girl,” Peggy said. She shifted, put an ear to Rindy’s chest.

“Wh-what’re you doing?” Rindy asked.

“I’m listening to your heart go thumpity-thump-thump,” Peggy said. Her hand, Therese noticed, was tapping out some kind of rhythm against Rindy’s leg.

 “You’re supposed to a have a ste-stethoscope for that, like doctors have.”

“Usually yes, but I’ll make due without one.”

“Do I have to go to the doctor?”

Rindy’s dread was palpable. Therese shared it.

“No,” Peggy said after a few more moments with her ear to Rindy’s heart. “No, darling.” She sat back, addressed Dugan. “No evac. Barnes. Belarus.”

Dugan made some kind of chuffing noise. He put his hands up to his shirt and paused, tilted his head as Peggy kept talking to Rindy, directing her. Turning to look at Carol, he cleared his throat, “I have to ask somethin’ I aint ever asked a civilian. You mind takin’ your shirt off for me, ma’am?”

“What?” Carol said, word and tone matching what was in Therese’s head exactly.

“Just bundle. Jesus Christ Dum Dum,” Steve shook his head, “Shared warmth, Carol. Get Rindy sat with you, both under blankets, your warmth is going to transfer to her.”

Therese was quite sure Carol wouldn’t need to be asked twice.

“Next patient ETA?” Peggy’s voice was still calm, measured. She didn’t even look at Steve as she asked it, checking Rindy’s eyes instead.

“Two, three minutes max.”

Peggy nodded again. “Cocoa. Sugar, lots of sugar. We need to warm her up from the inside.”

There was a clatter in the kitchen that made Therese look there, see Abby bringing down mugs. She’d forgotten Abby was here.

Peggy stepped back from Rindy. “Carol.”

The second syllable was barely uttered before Carol shoved past Dugan, which given their size differences would’ve been comical in any other situation.

“My girl. Oh, my baby.”

“Mommy.”

Rindy’s voice came muffled against Carol as they clung to each other. Carol lifted her as though she were nothing, as small as she’d been when Therese first met her, took her to the sofa. Steve brought blankets, wrapped them around both. Carol didn’t react to his hands on her as he tucked them tight, trapping the warmth.

“Mommy,” Rindy repeated over and over, her voice weak and scratchy, still crying without tears.

Carol didn’t have that problem, her face wet and red as she kissed all over Rindy’s face, rocked her as much as she could with the blankets holding them. “I’m here. I’m here, baby, Mommy’s right here. Oh God…”

Therese stood and stared, needing more than anything to grab onto them both but unsure if she should, if they didn’t need this moment with each other more than she needed it with them.

“Therese,” Peggy said, finding her gaze and speaking with that calm, commanding voice. “Go. Your warmth will help.”

Any doubt she had left evaporated when Rindy’s face peeked out from against Carol’s chest, “Mama?”

Therese rushed forward, untucked the blankets on Rindy’s other side long enough to get in. She gasped at how cold Rindy was, wrapped herself around mother and child. “Oh sweetheart,” she choked, couldn’t get anything else out.

“Mama,” Rindy whimpered. “Mama, it was scary.”

“I know.” Therese’s voice caught again. “I know, Rindy. So, so scary.”

Therese held on to Rindy, to the tears that wanted to come. Abby brought hot chocolate, knelt carefully in front of Rindy. “Here you go, Rindy. Drink up, okay?”

Rindy frowned, squinted. “Aunt Abby?”

Abby smiled as if everything were normal. “Who else?”

“Why-why are you here?”

“I’m here because you’re here, silly. Drink now, tiny sips.”

Abby held the cup steady for Rindy, helped her drink.

Therese, for a few blissful seconds, could breathe again.

Peggy had just brushed off the table Rindy had been on, wiping away the water left from melting snow, when Steve moved.

His steps were even, seemed no longer than normal, but still had him at the door in almost no movement, just in time to pull it open and let in a snow-covered woman.

A woman with a bundle in her arms.

Betty slid on the wooden floor in her ice-coated boots, but didn't fall or even stumble, even before Steve reached an arm out and gripped her elbow to guide her into the living room.

"Any change?"

"None," Betty replied, cheeks pale as the snow that covered her hair, that covered Lizzie.

The very, very still Lizzie.

"Table," Peggy directed, stepping back just enough to let Betty through. "Same conditions?"

"Foxhole, yeah." Steve's voice was almost as it had been before, formal and clipped. "Further down than the other."

"I'm sure. No gloves?" Peggy's fingers skimmed over Lizzie's pale hands, but quickly moved past to unbutton her coat.

"Kid ain't never kept a pair on in her life." Betty answered, shrugging her coat off and into Dugan’s waiting hands, leaving her clad in a sweater that had significantly less snow on it.

“You’re not wrong,” Peggy said without looking up.

“’Course not, when am I?”

"Fair enough." Peggy's response was a half sigh. Coat unbuttoned Peggy went to slip it off the little girl, something that looked harder when the one she was helping was unconscious. This time while Dugan stepped forward, she sent him back with a quick, measured shake of the head.

 "Rogers." she said simply, hands still on Lizzie's coat.

The word was quiet, plain, but almost a plea. As close to a prayer as Therese had ever heard from Peggy's lips.

It scared Therese. Steve showed no outward reaction, just stepped forward.

When Peggy asked questions, he answered.

"Heart?"

"Barely."

"Breathing?"

"Suspended."

Suspended? What the hell did that mean? Therese sought the answer on Steve’s face but found nothing. All he did was help hold Lizzie as Peggy peeled half-frozen clothing from her.

It was almost like seeing them deal with Jacob after he'd made a mess of himself, Therese thought, Only much, much larger, and more terrifying.

Once Lizzie was down to nothing and laying on the table again, Peggy checked her fingers, her toes, looking for something Therese couldn’t see.

"Barely?" Peggy repeated the words Steve had said before, dragging a quilt up and over Lizzie's bare legs.

Therese was glad for the quilt. Lizzie was so pale that she reminded Therese of a china doll.

"Yes,” Steve said.

Peggy made a noise and brushed her hair back from her face as she bent, placing her ear against Lizzie's chest.

Therese watched as Peggy stood there, eyes closed, bent almost double to listen. Very occasionally, Peggy would tap her fingers against the table.

They were trembling, Therese realized between taps, not quite still.

Where Peggy had been relatively quick with Rindy, her ear stayed on Lizzie’s chest. Therese lost count of exactly how long, but it was definitely over a minute.

“Mommy?” Rindy said, peeking her face out again, watching Lizzie with wide eyes. “Mommy?”

“Shh, darling,” Carol said, her voice not quite even. “It’s okay.”

“I tried to keep her awake, Mommy, I did. I tried—”

“It’s alright, Rindy,” Carol repeated, only slightly more convincing this time. “Drink your cocoa, okay? Please.”

Steve had his eyes closed. Therese read a curse word on his lips, not loud enough for Rindy to hear, before they opened. “Carter.”

“What?” Peggy asked, eyes closed.

The door flew open, startling Rindy enough that Abby had to hold her cup still to keep her numb hands from getting burned.

Angie looked a mess, panting and red-faced, covered in snow, nearly disappearing into a large men’s work coat that was so large it would probably be big on Steve.  Therese had never seen it before and couldn’t make sense of until Mr. Martinelli ran in a few seconds after his daughter. His thick, laced work boots left huge tracks of snow behind. The ends of his jeans were tucked inside them. A t-shirt peeked out from under a heavy knit sweater. He dwarfed Therese every time she went near him, a strong, middle-aged man who fixed telephone poles and had dressed to be cold all day.

He had not dressed, Therese was sure, for searching for his lost granddaughter. Like Sofia, this was the first time he’d ever looked old to her. She saw lines in his face and gray in his blond hair that she’d swear hadn’t been there yesterday.

Angie almost slipped on the wet floor, her father’s quick reflexes keeping the skid from becoming a fall. “Peg,” she said, not reacting to the near miss.

Angie’s breaths were quick, shallow pants. Therese couldn’t meet her eyes, but couldn’t look at Lizzie either, couldn’t see how long it’d been since Peggy’s fingers hit the table.

“Peg,” Angie repeated, and Therese couldn’t hear everything that was packed into that voice, tried to hear anything else.

Peggy opened her eyes, fingers still on the wood of the table. “Angie…”

“ _Peggy_ ,” Angie said, forceful and weak.

“Angie. My darling…”

Peggy tapped the table again once, twice, then stopped.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer update, which features one of the scenes that made me have to write this fic. Probably one or two more chapters after this.

Therese watched Angie without wanting to, could almost see the battle raging. Where Carol had rushed toward Rindy immediately, Angie stayed still. Did she have more control than Carol, or was it Lizzie’s stillness that kept her frozen? Did Angie fear what she would find if she came any closer to the unmoving child, or was Therese projecting her own terror onto her friend?

Peggy tapped the table again. She straightened up but put a hand to Lizzie’s chest. The other remained on the table. “Steve?” she said, something between an ask and an order,

He moved, put his hand on Lizzie’s chest, above Peggy’s. Therese had absurd thoughts of fairytales, of magic flowing through the hands of impossible people who could do no wrong, saving the mere mortals of the story. There was no magic though, no flash of light, no pretty colors as power flowed through their hands and into Lizzie. She remained still and pale, frighteningly pale. Steve and Peggy kept their hands over her chest, did nothing else.

Therese thought for a moment that it was some form of prayer. Peggy didn’t go to church much, but Steve did. Then she thought that they were going to pump their hands against Lizzie’s chest, which she didn’t know much about, but the paper had done an article last year on how it might get people breathing again if they weren’t.

Nothing happened though. They did nothing, and all Therese could hear was Rindy’s breathing so close to her, and Sofia’s voice upstairs, directing her children.

She focused on Rindy’s breath, held Rindy tighter. She prayed for Lizzie silently and thanked God that she was with Rindy here, on the sofa, that Rindy was breathing against her. That she wasn’t in Angie’s place. Her gratitude left her sick and barely able to control her own breath.

“Steve?” Peggy said again.

“Yeah.”

He nodded as if he understood the question, which Therese certainly didn’t.

“Holding?” Peggy asked.

“Yeah. Too slow, but holding.” He looked at her, asking instead of answering. “Is it consistent with… like it was last time?”

“Yes,” Peggy said after a moment. “Yes, it is.”

Therese shared a startled look with Carol. Last time?

Steve nodded again, pulled at his shirt. It was halfway off before Peggy had a chance to speak.

“Not the best choice for this mission, darling,” she said. “You’ll just go cold. Besides, I doubt Carol, Therese, or Abby want to see that.”

Was that the dry tone that usually meant humor? Could Peggy possibly be joking? Now?

Steve let his shirt drop into back into place, looked sheepish, which was exceptionally odd after all the control and command he’d shown before.

“I’m going to speak for the room and thank you to keep your clothes on, Cap,” said Dugan.

“Please,” said Peggy, touching Lizzie’s wrist. “As if you’ve ever passed up an opportunity to see him lose clothes.” Peggy breathed, the motion of her shoulders visible as she did. “Angie, darling,” she said, voice even, “I’ll need you to strip now.”

Angie did not blink. Therese did, several times, then made an effort to look anywhere else as Steve stood, moved to help her off with her clothing. He pushed Angie’s hands away as they shook.

Mr. Martinelli mumbled something, his eyes down. Stepping over his jacket, which Angie had quickly shrugged out of and discarded he went to the kitchen.  “Soup,” he said, his thick boots making the floorboards creak.

“Sofia already made some earlier,” said Abby.

Pausing, Angelo Sr. threw a quick half glance toward Lizzie bare under the blanket, Angie getting her clothes peeled off. “Can’t never have too much soup,” he said. Then he started pulling pots from cabinets. Dugan was quick to volunteer himself as sous chef.

Therese spent long, awkward moments determinedly watching Rindy, who made no attempt to hide her wide-eyed gaze as she saw what was happening. She looked more confused than anything, too young to be scandalized.

“You want to move her upstairs?” Betty asked, not unkindly, speaking to Carol but nodding at Rindy.

Carol’s eyes found Therese’s, searching for an answer Therese didn’t have. Opening her mouth to give one anyway, she was cut off immediately.

“No!” Rindy said, louder than she had before, still with strain in her voice. “No, I’m staying with Lizzie!”

“Rindy,” Therese tried.

“No! No, Mommy, no. Lizzie’s still sleeping and I’m not going and I don’t want to be by myself. I don’t want to be by myself, Mommy, please.”

Angie, down to just her underthings, spoke up. “It’s fine. We’re all family, we all got the same parts.” It was the only acknowledgement of her near-nudity as she took Steve’s hand, let him help her over the pile of wet clothes.

Jacob shrieked from upstairs. Peggy winced and shook her head. “She’s fine here, as long as you don’t mind.” That was addressed to Carol. “I’d rather have them in the same room anyway.”

“Mommy, I’m not going! Don’t make me go, we have to stay together!”

“Alright, alright Rindy. Shh, shh, darling, hey. No one’s making you go anywhere. Mommy’s never letting you go again, alright? You’re right here with us, we’ve got you. Mama and I have you.”

Carol rocked Rindy softly. Therese, helpless, rubbed Rindy’s back, stroked her hair, did anything she could think of to give the comfort she couldn’t remember feeling with her own mother.

“Okay, okay,” Betty said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Bad idea.”

Betty noticed before Therese did that the stairs were creaking, heard it somehow over the noise of Jacob’s screams. Following her eye line, Therese saw Sofia rushing down the stairs.

“My babies!” she said, hurrying forward as Peggy picked Lizzie up from the table, took the blanket with her.

“It’s alright,” Peggy said, “it’ll be alright. Here, Angie, come here.”

Peggy pointed her chin at an ancient looking recliner near the fireplace, one that had not been moved an inch while they were preparing the living room. Therese had learned on previous visits that this chair was somehow sacred to Angelo Sr. One of the few unbreakable, unbendable rules of the Martinelli house was that no one touched that chair, let alone sat in it.

Both rules were broken. Steve moved the ratty thing closer to the fire and Angie sat in it, holding her arms out. Peggy, with infinite care, handed Lizzie over to her. She took more blankets from the basket nearby, covered them both.

“Oh my God,” Angie said, pulling Lizzie close to her. “God, Peg, she’s so cold.”

“She’s okay,” Peggy said, fussing with the corner of a blanket. When she had it to her liking, Peggy cupped Angie’s face with one hand, helped cradle Lizzie with the other. “Baby, look at me. She’s going to be okay.”

It jarred Therese unexpectedly, hearing that pet name from Peggy. Angie used it all the time, Steve occasionally. Therese hadn’t known she liked it until Carol used it with her. But Peggy, with her there was darling and love and sweetheart. Never ‘baby,’ at least not within Therese’s hearing.

Peggy kissed Lizzie’s forehead, her curls, kissed Angie, and Therese’s sense of intrusion no longer had anything to do with Angie’s lack of clothes.

“You sure we shouldn’t take her to SHIELD?” Angie asked.

“They can’t do anything we can’t. And I don’t want her waking up there.” Peggy looked at Steve as she spoke the last words. He stood a few feet back, held Peggy’s gaze before finding Angie’s.

“We’ve got it,” Ange,” he said. “We’ve got her.”

A moment passed, then two. “Okay,” Angie said, pulling Lizzie impossibly closer. “Someone should get the other one then, before he busts a window and lets all the cold in.

“I’ll bring him up a bottle,” said Sofia, her voice distracted as she bent on the other side of the chair, running careful hands over Lizzie. “I had to see, I had to…”

“I know, Sofia,” Peggy said. “I understand. She’ll be alright now.”

“Si?”

“Yes. I will take care of them.” She pushed a strand of hair back from Angie’s face, still addressed Sofia. “We will always take care of them.”

Therese noticed somewhere past Jake’s shrieks that the clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen had momentarily stopped.

Sofia nodded, the motion far less graceful and decisive than Therese was used to seeing. “I’ll get him a bottle.”

“No, no need for that,” Peggy said after another lingering look at Angie.  “I’ll go up.”

Sofia’s expression changed. “Ah. He’s had the formula all day, hasn’t he?”

“That he has, and he detests it,” said Peggy, straightening herself up.

“Si. And your tits are ready to explode, aren’t they?”

“Ma,” Angie said without looking away from Lizzie, without heat.

“That they are,” said Peggy.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Betty asked.

Steve rolled his eyes, sat on the arm of the chair next to Angie as Peggy headed up the stairs. “It’s been a long day, Betts. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“As if you’d ever hit a lady.”

“As if you’d ever pass for a lady.”

Therese watched, listened, clutched Rindy and Carol because surely they were the only solid things in the world at this moment. She did _not_ understand what was happening here, but for now the confusion was familiar. The banter that made no sense to her made sense, in its own way, made far more sense than Rindy screaming, than Lizzie motionless on that table.

If they were back to talking to each other in that way that made no sense to Therese and never had, then things must be alright. Somehow, they were alright.

* * *

By the time Peggy returned, cradling a sleepy Jacob against her, Rindy’s limbs had begun to wake up. She cried as the circulation returned to her body, giving her the sensation of pins and needles all over.

Therese hated it, saw it caused almost physical pain in Carol as well, but preferred it to the alternative. A squirming, crying child was better than a silent, unmoving one.

Therese half-expected Angie to change her mind when Rindy started sobbing with new intensity. Angie seemed determined to have Lizzie wake up in a place of calm, murmuring endearments and comforts that were harder to hear once Rindy’s pain kicked in. But Angie didn’t try to send her away, didn’t acknowledge it at all really. It was as if she and Lizzie were in their own world, impenetrable by anyone else.

When he saw Peggy enter the room with Jake, Steve left his position on the arm of the chair to help them get settled. Peggy was smaller, able to share the recliner with Angie which was what she did, making sure everyone was comfortable before taking Jake from Steve.

Angie smiled as she saw him. He was clingy and hadn’t been happy being passed around between his parents. “I’m sorry, little man,” she said, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. “You haven’t had much attention today, have you?”

“She’s always been pretty hell bent on making sure he didn’t get any,” Steve said. He moved to the floor next to Angie’s legs, squeezed her ankle as he sat down. His limbs were long and the room was a mess of displaced furniture. It was almost funny watching his attempts to arrange himself.

Therese felt bad finding anything funny with Rindy still whimpering in her ear.

Jake seemed less bothered by the noise than Angie and was quickly asleep. Between hiccups and cries, they got Rindy to explain what had happened, though it took a little work to piece together. When she heard about the snowplow, Angie paused her litany of sweethearts and little ones and precious girls to mutter something in Italian in a very different tone.

“We yelled,” Rindy said, her head under Carol’s chin. “We yelled and we yelled and nobody came.” She shifted, looked at Carol with wide, wet eyes. “You didn’t come, Mommy. I waited and yelled and you didn’t come.”

“Oh sweet pea,” Carol said, the words jagged, choked.

Therese didn’t see accusation from Rindy, only fear. It wouldn’t be like that for Carol. Therese could already see the guilt settling over her.

“Hey Rin,” Steve said, one hand rested on Angie’s blanket-covered knee. “Rindy, look at me a minute, okay?”

It was the same tone Therese heard him use a thousand times with Jake or Lizzie, strong but warm, gentle. She remembered snatches of it from her own father, wished she had more than that.

“Your mom tried so hard to find you,” Steve said, holding Rindy’s gaze. “Harder than anyone in the whole world. Therese did too, we were just looking in the wrong places.”

Rindy sniffled. “I’m sorry we left the house, I’m—”

“No, no, no, Rindy, no.” Steve cut her off before she could upset herself further. “You’re safe, Lizzie’s safe, that’s all that matters. And I’m sorry we couldn’t get you out faster. But nobody wanted to get you out more than your mom, and she did. She just needed a little help from me. Your mom will always find you, okay?”

Rindy eyed him, tucked herself closer to Carol. “You’ll help?”

“If she needs it, yes. But you don’t have to worry about that right now, okay?”

Rindy nodded and was quiet. Therese wondered if this was Steve’s way of apologizing for earlier. She watched Steve and Carol share a look and decided it didn’t matter.

Soup was served. Sofia went back and forth, upstairs and down, her other children still being made to stay up there. Peggy would check Rindy over from time to time, her hands and feet mostly. Rindy protested at this, cried, but not as harshly as before. There were real tears, Therese noticed, not like before. Rindy had regained her ability to cry properly, which was good and bad.

“You’re so tired, my baby,” Carol murmured. Rindy was still clinging to her, struggling just to keep her head up let alone eyes open. “Can she sleep?” Carol asked, addressing Peggy.

“Yes,” Peggy said. She was pacing with Jacob. He faced away from her, her chest to his back, Peggy with one arm supporting his front and the other under his bottom. He’d grown fussy again, but calmed when he was able to see the activity around him. “It’ll do her good.” Peggy added, continuing her circuit around the room as Jake looked this way and that.

“Why don’t you try to rest, sweetheart?” Therese asked.

“Lizzie’s not ‘wake yet,” Rindy mumbled. Her thumb was in her mouth, something she’d mostly grown out of before Therese even met her.

“You know Lizzie,” said Steve. “She’s always sleepy when it’s like this.”

“It’s never been like this before.”

Therese didn’t have an answer for that, nor did anyone else judging by the silence.

“You should rest, kiddo.” Angie spoke softly, still cradling Lizzie against her. “Otherwise you’ll be exhausted when Lizzie’s up and ready to go, and that happens too much already, doesn’t it?”

“She’s going to wake up?”

The question, in all it’s seriousness and uncertainty, caused someone in the room to gasp. It might’ve been Therese.

“Of course she is,” Angie said calmly, reassuring, and Therese wasn’t sure how she could hide her feelings so well.

Angie would win more awards someday, her career flying far beyond the heights of _Peter Pan._ In this most painful of moments, Therese was sure of this.

That moment shifted into another, and another, and then there was a slight rustling. Lizzie moved a bit within the nest of Angie’s arms, made a small, sleep-filled noise.

It was quiet and brief, but Therese felt the air in the room change. Some of the heaviness lifted and the warmth of the fire became comforting rather than suffocating.

“My precious girl,” Angie said, and Therese saw the mask slip, saw tears. “Everyone’s here, baby, everyone’s waiting for you.” She kissed Lizzie’s head while Steve stood. He touched Lizzie’s back, held his hand there a moment, eyes closed. When he opened them, Therese saw his lips twitch, saw him nod at Peggy.

Jacob took in huffy, excited breaths. Therese wouldn’t have expected him to see the tiny movement but apparently he had. His little fists clenched with excitement and he kicked his legs out.

Smiling, the first real smile Therese saw from her all day, Peggy adjusted her hold, moved toward the chair. “Okay, okay. You haven’t seen her in so long, have you? Want to see your Lizzie?”

He made a happy noise as Peggy brought him closer, blue eyes bright and attentive on the bundle of blankets, waiting for more movement.

“Why don’t we trade for a bit?” Peggy asked, addressing Angie. “I’ll take her, Jacob can get reacquainted, and you can stretch your legs.”

“That’s alright, I’m fine here.”

“Love, you haven’t eaten.”

“I ate some this morning.” Angie was half out with another protest when Therese saw her look at Rindy. “You know what? Yeah, I could use some grub and a bathroom break. And you could use some mummy time,” Angie said, her eyes back on Peggy.

“I’d hardly say no to it.”

“Alright then. Help me up, Soldier.”

There was a quick, careful process of Angie passing Lizzie off to Steve and Steve helping her stand. Peggy took her place and Angie took Jacob so that Steve could settle the girl against Peggy. Jake continued to squirm as he was passed around, trying to reach Lizzie.

“There you go, bud, take it easy,” Angie said. She cuddled the baby close for a moment, then he was back with Peggy, laid against one of her shoulders while his sister rested against the other. Jake made a gleeful, ridiculous noise, one of his hands stretched out to pat Lizzie’s head over and over.

“Better enjoy that while it lasts, pal,” Steve said. “You’ll never get away with it once she’s awake.”

Jake paid no mind to this and continued what he was doing.

“Yes, I know, darling,” said Peggy. “I know you missed your Lizzie. I know you missed her.”

As Therese watched Peggy with the children snuggled against her, she realized this was probably the first time all day that Peggy got to treat Lizzie as a daughter, not a patient, not the subject of an investigation. Therese, forgetting her awkwardness over Angie in her underwear, wondered where her camera was, she’d lost track of it hours ago. But no, not all moments were meant to be preserved.

Angie went away for a bit, came back with a robe. She went upstairs, must’ve told those who were minding the children what had happened because Therese heard a small cheer. She had soup and bread, declared she needed more than that, and asked if Carol wanted to join her for a cigarette. “You could use a break too.”

“I’m fine,” Carol said, the same answer Angie had given.

“Carol.” Therese knew beyond a doubt that Carol was not fine. “I can stay with her.”

Rindy had relaxed considerably since Lizzie moved, but Carol still watched her closely, met the eyes that matched hers as they struggled to stay open. “Sweet pea? Will you be okay with Mama for a bit?”

Rindy blinked, slow and sleepy. “You’ll come back?”

“Always.”

Rindy nodded, stretched herself out so she was resting against Therese. “Okay,” she said and just that, her thumb finding her mouth again.

Carol hugged her, stroked her hair. “I love you so much.” She pulled back. “And you, too.”

Therese smiled, helped Rindy lay against her lap. “I love you. Take your time, she’s safe.”

“I know that.” Carol brushed There’s lips with hers.

They bundled up enough to leave the house, which took longer in Angie’s case than Carol’s. Carol kissed Therese again, then Rindy. Steve gave Angie a long hug while Peggy sat with the children.

“Don’t stay out too long,” Peggy said. “You’ll get a chill.”

Angie stared at her. Peggy realized what she’d said. They laughed at the same time.

* * *

“Not worth it.”

“Hmm?” Carol lowered her cigarette, looked at Angie. They were standing on the screened in back porch of the Martinelli house, where Angie’s siblings liked to sleep in the summers. It was freezing now, the screens offering minimal protection, but the cigarette helped.

“I haven’t been allowed in Dad’s chair since 1928. Spent a lot of years looking for the excuse that would make it okay, where he’d let me take over that throne of his. Not worth it.”

“No, I imagine it wasn’t.” They stood in silence, smoking and watching more snowflakes hit the ground. “I love the snow. You say that and people think it’s because you like Christmas, but it’s not. For me it’s not.”

“No?”

“I mean, it is, but not really. It’s Rindy. It’s always been Rindy. We’d just had a horrible Christmas, Harge and I. It might’ve been the first time I really thought we wouldn’t be able to…” Carol shook her head. “A few weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. I was so happy, we both were. Harge was over the moon. We hadn’t been that happy with each other in a long time. He was like a kid who’d gotten the best Christmas gift of his life, a little late.”

“And you?” Angie asked, wearing a soft smile.

“I was walking on air that whole first trimester. Walking on air, and all around me there was snow on the ground.”

The problems came later. Harge loved that she was carrying his baby, hated what it did to her body. His mother loved the idea of a grandchild, began criticizing Carol’s handling of that child before it was even born. The perfect snowfall of those first few months was never meant to last. Rindy brought them together, and in a few winters, they’d be tearing each other apart over her.

“I don’t think I love it anymore.” Raising the cigarette to her lips, Carol inhaled deeply. Rindy in those first few weeks was safe from the snow and the cold, in her belly. Rindy was in the living room now, lucky to be alive. Carol hadn’t protected her this time. “No, I don’t think I’ll ever love it again.”

Angie said nothing to that, nothing at all for a bit. Then, “Sometimes I think Lizzie’s more Steve’s child than mine. Steve and Peggy’s, and there’s barely any of me left in there.”

Carol was incredulous, didn’t bother hiding it. “She’s a mini of you.”

Angie let out a weak laugh, exhaled smoke. “Did I ever tell…no, you wouldn’t know, no one does.” Her eyes went briefly to the closed door behind them. “Ma and Papa don’t even know.”

“Angie?”

“When she was born, she was born quiet. Not born sleeping, but... quiet. No air was getting in. Her eyes were wide, looking around, little hands grabbing, but she just couldn’t get any air in. So quiet, not a peep. Hell, it’s the only time in her life she didn’t have anything to say.”

The try at a joke didn’t stop Angie’s voice from cracking. Carol’s throat tightened unpleasantly, a sensation she’d dealt with far too much today.

“Right before she was out, I remember, Peg and Steve were next to me, one on each side. I was so tired and Peg was holding me, and I told her to make it stop, make it be over already. ‘Cause I was exhausted and scared and you know Peg, Peg can do anything, right?”

“Right,” Carol said despite the sarcasm there, because she understood the feeling of wanting it to be over. And after today she understood more than ever the want to have Peggy fix everything.

“Then she’s there. Lizzie’s there and she’s out, but she’s not crying. And I’m thinking, in my state of delirium or stupidity or whatever, I’m thinking no, this isn’t what I meant. This isn’t what I meant about making it stop. Wake up, kid, get started already. Get started.

“Angie…” Carol wanted to reach out to her, but feared she’d break completely if she did. Feared they both would.

“I panicked, of course. More people showed up, doctors, nurses, I don’t know. One of them said something about getting the baby out of the room to keep from upsetting me, but we were past that point. I hadn’t even seen her and they were going to take her away. So yeah, we were past the point of ‘upset.’”

Carol’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. She’d harbored so many fears about losing Rindy, but never like that. She didn’t have the first moments of Rindy’s life tainted by those fears. She’d never seen Rindy unable to breathe. The more Angie talked, the more the magnitude of what happened hit Carol full force.

Angie and her spouses hadn’t lived a nightmare tonight. They’d _re_ lived it.”

“Peggy was holding me again. Wanted me to stay put before I hurt myself, bled too much. Meanwhile some doctor was trying to take Lizzie away from us. I’m sure Peg would’ve killed the guy if she weren’t so worried about me.”

“So what happened?” Carol had trouble taking a breath, which was absurd because she knew the end of the story. The end of the story was safe and snoring a little in Peggy’s lap.

“Steve happened. His mom was a nurse, you know, before she died. Anyway. He took her from the doctors, which was absolutely stupid, but that fits for him. And me, I thought it was the best thing he’d ever done, who fucking cares how many times he punched Adolf in the face? Peggy was holding me and he was hushing me, telling me it was okay. Telling me nobody was going to take our baby girl. Which, I don’t even know if I knew what we had before he said that. He took her and rubbed her back, talked to her, blew air on her face. And then she gasped and it was like he’d breathed the life into her. It was a long labor, she didn’t want to come out. That’s what it felt like. And then when she did, it was like she wasn’t ready for this world, didn’t know what to do in it until Steve showed her how to breathe. There was nothing, and then suddenly she took the biggest, biggest breath. Her legs kicked out, her little arms reached out, reached for him.”

Carol said nothing, had almost forgotten about the cigarette burning out in her hand.

“She looked…absolutely perfect when she was born, you know?”

“I’m sure.”

“No, I… babies are ugly when they first show up. You know that. I love my kids, they’re beautiful, but new babies are ugly. Remind me to find you her newborn photos, beyond the ones we have out. Newborns have red skin, all splotchy and red, squished up faces and wrinkles. Like little aliens. Like Jake,” Angie added fondly, busying the fingers of one hand with her cigarette, gesturing with the other. “Jakey looked like new ones are supposed to, red and splotchy and not quite done yet.”

“And Lizzie?”

“Lizzie.” Angie laughed again. “Lizzie was perfect. A perfectly formed little being. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t breathe at first. The air here wasn’t perfect enough for her. She was gold as a cooked goose for days, with the smoothest skin ever. I’d never seen anything like it. No one had. Except Peg. And Howard, I suppose, not that I let Howard near her or me in those first few days.” Angie shook her head, cutting off a digression. “That’s how Steve looked. After they fixed him. When he came out of Howard’s machine and he was literally perfect, because that’s what they made him. He went in this skinny ass asthmatic who could barely breathe, he came out perfect. And then he has this perfect little baby, perfect except she couldn’t breathe.”

Carol couldn’t imagine the terror of thinking you were going to lose your baby forever. No, she could now. She’d lived it, didn’t want to keep living it, but remained enthralled by Angie’s words.

“Jake was nothing like her. Few hours and he was out. I was so scared it’d be like Lizzie. Peg’s, Peg’s seen a lot of people who couldn’t breathe. Babies, even. I didn’t want her to see that with ours, not again. The docs were prepared for it this time, they had stuff ready to go, but still. And it didn’t matter because he was crying before he was even out all the way.” Angie let out something between a laugh and a sob. “But that’s Peggy for you. Always has to throw me a curve ball. Lizzie, Lizzie’s so completely her child, and Steve’s. Only their kid could make such a career out of scaring the living hell out of me. Kid’s not even five yet and she’s turned my hair white three separate times.”

“Three?”

Angie’s smile was wry. “Bad things come in threes, right? Think that means I’m due for a break?” Angie rolled her eyes. “Doubtful, knowing that kid. Anyway. You know how Rindy always wants to try ‘flying,’ like I do, like Peter Pan?”

It was usually mentioned at least once a week, so Carol knew. “Yes.”

“Do you know why that’s never going to happen?”

“Obviously.”

Angie snorted, but grew serious quickly enough. “One day I had to stop by the theater, grab something I’d left. Talk with the costume department, just for a minute. Lizzie was with me. Couldn’t’ve been that long before we met you, actually. Anyway, was supposed to be a quick thing, but that went out the window. We had to redo the bust on some of my outfits ‘cause Lizzie was finally completely off the tit, thank fucking Christ. So I’m getting fitted and Lizzie’s onstage with some of the crew guys, just screwing around. They had the nursery scene set up so she was just having herself a time, playing around, you know?”

“Sure.” She’d relented and brought Rindy around a few times when Angie was rehearsing for a show. Peeking behind the curtain hadn’t dampened Rindy’s interest in the slightest, she remained as enthralled as that first night Carol and Therese took her to the play. Back when they didn’t know Peter would become one of their best friends.

“She knew everyone on that set and they loved her, they all loved her.” Angie gestured with her burned out cigarette, almost using it as a punctuation mark. “I didn’t think anything of it, leaving her with them. Christ knows she knew how to holler for me if she needed something.”

“Sure,” Carol said, not knowing where this was going but certain she didn’t like it.

“Yeah. So I do my fitting, and no hollering, no nothing, nobody runs back to get me ‘cause my kid’s melting down. I come out thinking everything’s fine. I come out and there’s my baby onstage. Except she’s not.”

“Not?”

“You know how I fly? The harness, the wires? They’ve got a bit around my waist, then around my thighs? Steve made a whole thing of it, making sure it was safe. Almost got me fired. So Lizzie’s up there, ‘flying’ like me, above the stage. But she’s not. She’s not all hooked up and strapped in like I am every time. She’s, she’s this tiny little thing, twenty feet above the stage, and she’s hanging on by her hands. Just her hands. All that’s got her held up there is her little hands clutching the waist bit of this harness. One of the guys has the ropes pulled to keep her up high, and he’s just staring at her. All of them are just staring at her like they’re hypnotized. And Lizzie’s giggling her head off, has her curls going all over the place, swinging her feet, just having a blast. Twenty, thirty feet up and she’s acting like she’s on that swing set at the park that her and Rindy used to fight over.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah. That was about my reaction.”

“What did you do?”

“I very, very carefully told them to lower my daughter, now. Couldn’t risk them hurrying it or scaring Lizzie. Scared them though, hard as I tried not to. One of them jumped and let the rope slip for a second, and that’s ten years of my life I’ll never get back. But they got back on track, snapped out of their trance or whatever. Minute her legs were back on the ground it was like mine wouldn’t work anymore. I could barely stand, but I grabbed her up. I know I held her too tight, I know she felt me shaking. And the guys, they won’t shut up. Apology after apology. They were screwing around like usual and I guess she wanted to fly but they said no, she wasn’t allowed, the harness wouldn’t fit, blah, blah, blah. Well, she told them she didn’t need the harness, and then they were all teasing each other, and they let her hang there thinking she’d get tired after a few feet. Obviously it didn’t work out like that.”

“Jesus,” Carol repeated, unable to say anything else.

“Yeah. The minute I got home and she was settled, I’m a mess. Crying and shaking, couldn’t stop apologizing to Steve and Peg. Which, Steve couldn’t stop apologizing to _me_ , so that was a fun one for Peg to have to sort out.”

“Why would Steve apologize?” Carol asked, her brain struggling to process all this.

“Because of who he is. And who she is. I keep in shape, don’t get me wrong, but she didn’t get arms like that from me.” Angie exhaled, her breath showing in front of her. She watched the snow as it continued to fall, the snow the girls had been pinned under.

Four hours was the guess. It was hard to tell for sure, but from what they’d pieced together, Lizzie and Rindy had probably been there around four hours. Maybe five.

“She is every inch his child,” Angie said, looking at Carol. Her always expressive eyes were too bright and too red under the porchlight. “Thank God she’s his child. Fuck, Carol…”

The cigarette slipped from Angie’s fingers. She hunched in on herself and wept, softly. Carol put out her own cigarette and went to Angie, touched her arm. When she wasn’t rebuffed, Carol slipped cautious arms around Angie, rubbed her back. They cried together, their tears falling as the snow did.

* * *

Therese had only heard Carol sing a handful of times. Rarely did it happen with other people around, and never like this.

Carol and Angie returned from the cold just as Therese was getting anxious enough to want to go find them. Rindy’s eyes, clearly too heavy for the little girl to bear, had opened wider nonetheless at the new pair of steps. She’d reached for Carol wordlessly, almost before Carol started removing her winter things. When they were settled, Carol next to Therese and Rindy half-lying across both of them, Carol said again how Rindy needed to sleep. Rindy, thumb in her mouth, refused this idea.

She did not refuse, at least verbally, when Carol offered to sing to her. Usually Carol and song involved low, teasing renditions of whatever record she and Therese had on. Sometimes she recited little children’s songs with Rindy. The only time Therese could remember something close to this was the weekend Rindy suddenly spiked a fever, spent the night chilled and nauseous and crying every time Carol was out of her sight. Carol eventually sang her a lullaby, but they’d been alone then, just the two of them with Rindy.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” Carol sang now, with an audience. Lizzie’s parents, of course, and Abby, who’d returned with Rose from helping to keep the youngest Martinelli twins entertained. Abby stood with Rose in the kitchen, ignoring the soup she’d poured for herself, her eyes only just too bright as she watched Carol.

“You make me happy when skies are gray,” Carol continued as if no one else was there. “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, so please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Her voice faltered on the last sentence, but not enough for Rindy to notice, Therese thought. In fact, she thought Rindy had finally let herself drift until the girl spoke up, the eyes like her mother’s reduced to just slits.

“You have a nice voice. You should sing more, Mommy.”

Carol chuckled, stroked Rindy’s hair, her cheek. She hadn’t stopped finding little ways to keep physical contact with Rindy since Steve first tucked them under the blanket together. “And you,” Carol said, “my brave, precious, perfect girl, should sleep.”

Rindy only shook her head, mouth still worrying her thumb.

“Do you want more cocoa?” Carol offered. “Warm milk? I could read you a story.”

“The twins have plenty of books upstairs,” Angie said quietly. “I’m sure there’s something she’d like.”

Rindy’s eyes opened a bit. “Do you have _Stuart Little_?”

“I don’t know, honey,” Angie replied. “We can definitely check.”

But Rindy shook her head. “That’s okay. He’s getting his mommy’s ring from a sink, that’s where Daddy left off. We’re going to read again when Daddy comes back. Mommy,” Rindy said, her words heavy with exhaustion, but clear, “what time is it?”

Therese looked at Carol. Carol said it was time for sleep.

“No, Mommy. I didn’t talk to Daddy all day today. He’ll be worried. He always calls at the exact same time, he’ll be worried.”

Again, Therese looked at Carol. She’d gone suddenly pale in the firelight.

“I want my Daddy.” Rindy was so tired that she was crying in moments, instantly on the verge of a meltdown. “Mommy, he’ll be scared, I don’t want him to be scared like I was. I want my Daddy!”

Rindy sobbed, her breath coming in wrenching little pants as she ordered Carol to make Harge come home. He would, Therese was sure, no matter what his business trip entailed. He’d come right home as soon as he heard what happened. What happened when he’d changed the schedule, left Rindy with them.

Carol’s song came back to her, hit Therese in the heart and twisted her gut, made her regret the soup-dipped bread she’d accepted while Carol and Angie were gone.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter’s about twice the usual length because I couldn’t get where I wanted to be otherwise. There’s a bit more Captain America/Agent Carter stuff mentioned here, though it shouldn’t be a deal breaker for the uninitiated. I will recommend to anyone who’s even a little curious after this chapter to look up the Captain America plane crash scene on Youtube. It is beautiful, beautiful hurt.
> 
> There’s been a lot packed into this story, particularly in the last two chapters, so comments are super extra appreciated

Therese could not breathe.

The sensation of weight on her chest, a closing airway, that had come and gone ever since she heard Rindy was missing. It’d been manageable before, if uncomfortable. If she took deep enough breaths, she could at least function.

She was not managing it at the moment.

Calling Harge was an ordeal from the start. The number for his hotel was on the counter at home, not here. Then he’d been angry before Carol got two words in, angry and worried about the calls to their home that went unanswered. As if he hadn’t left Carol dangling on a thin thread of hope for a five-minute talk with her daughter countless times before without following through. And then, then Carol had to explain why, where they’d been. And since Rindy refused to be out of sight of Lizzie, the whole thing happened on the Martinellis kitchen phone.

Therese heard Rindy cry to her father. Not blaming her for it, but knowing exactly what it was doing, what he would think. She and Carol would probably think the same if it happened at his home, or at his parents.’

Therese could not clearly hear his side of the conversation, but knew it was loud. Carol’s attempts to speak were always cut off. When Abby came up to her, glaring, Carol waved her away. She had to do it twice before Abby listened. Carol asked Angelo Sr. if she could keep using the line, looked far from grateful when he said yes.

She hung up with Harge, said she’d be right back. Kissed Therese and called her darling and told her to stay put, relax, when Therese tried to follow her upstairs.

Relax indeed.

Therese tried not to feel ridiculous and unfair about it when Rindy finally fell asleep, only after talking to Harge and being assured he’d be home early. Abby stayed with her as she dozed and Therese came upstairs. Again, she missed the details, but she could hear Carol’s voice through one of the doors lining the hallway, hear the strain.

Carol didn’t want Therese in there with her.

Therese wasn’t sure she could’ve handled it anyway. Apparently not, since she couldn’t handle breathing at the moment.

Tears blocked her vision. How many times had that happened today? She braced one arm against the hallway wall, her heart beating in her ears. Too fast, like a hummingbird. Rindy told her about hummingbirds a few weeks ago, how fast their hearts went. She’d learned about it in school, been so excited to tell. Asked Therese if she’d taken pictures of any hummingbirds.

Therese shook, grasping at the smooth surface of the wall, desperate for an anchor that wasn’t there.

A hand found her elbow, then came a voice she only barely recognized through the turmoil of her mind and body.

“Come on, doll, let’s take a minute.”

Betty. Mrs. Dugan was steering Therese gently but insistently away from Carol’s voice, into the upstairs bathroom. Betty shut the door and Therese realized it was a good thing, that Carol didn’t need to hear her falling apart in the middle of a battle with Harge. Therese wanted to thank her. She also wanted to duck out of the room and say this wasn’t necessary. She would’ve been embarrassed doing this in front of Carol or Abby, never mind a near stranger. But fighting harder to stop them only made the tears come faster, the pile of bricks on her chest heavier.

“It’s alright,” Betty said, still steering Therese, sitting her down on the closed lid of the toilet. “Well, it’s not alright, but it’s okay that it’s not.”

Therese tried to talk, only came out with choked, humiliating sounds she didn’t want to claim as her own.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Betty let go of her elbow, grabbed a hand towel off a rack nearby. She ran it under water briefly, wrung it out, then dabbed Therese’s face with it. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe.”

Therese didn’t realize how hot she was until the cool cloth touched her skin. More of those noises came, those ugly, agonized sounds that shouldn’t be from her. She crossed her arms, hugged herself in a fruitless attempt to stop the shaking.

Betty set the cloth on the sink, knelt on hard tile to be at Therese’s eye level. She rubbed her hands in soft circles on either of Therese’s shoulders. “Let it out. You can’t chase it away sometimes, believe me. Let it out.”

She shouldn’t. Not here, not now. There was a factual but kind something in Betty’s tone that took away Therese’s choice in the matter. She sobbed, hunched in on herself, which only put her closer to Betty. Betty embraced her like it was nothing, like they’d exchanged more than ten or twenty words before today. The thoughts that tore so painfully and insistently through Therese’s mind fell out of her mouth, as panicked and garbled as anything Rindy had said when she was still half-frozen.

“He’s…take her away. He’ll take…we’ll lose her. We’ll still lose her.”

Betty pulled back, her hands returning to Therese’s shoulders. She squeezed, just enough pressure that Therese paid attention. “She’s safe,” Betty said, her calm, unwavering tone a sharp contrast to Therese’s. “She’s safe right downstairs, she’s warm and sleeping. That’s all that matters right now.”

“He’s so angry. He’ll punish us for this, he’ll—”

“He can’t do shit right now. He’s in another state, and no planes are going in or out because of the snow. Right now, she’s safe. There’s time to figure the other stuff out. One thing at a time, or you’ll drive yourself nuts.”

Betty kept her hands on Therese’s shoulders, kept the gentle pressure that countered everything else in Therese’s body, everything that wasn’t gentle or steady at all. Slowly, so slowly, she didn’t relax, but she no longer felt her shoulders and back would snap under an invisible weight. Betty pulled her close again and Therese didn’t realize how much she needed it until it happened.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Betty murmured. “Shhh. Go ahead and get it out.”

If it was contradictory, being hushed and encouraged to cry in the same breath, Therese couldn’t care. She sobbed until everything shook, everything hurt, sobbed until it didn’t anymore. She clung hard to this woman she barely knew and Betty held her close, spilled endless words of reassurance.

What ultimately calmed the storm were words Therese didn’t even understand. They weren’t English, but they were familiar. She’d never heard them spoken by a woman before. The only one who might’ve done it at one time would certainly never be standing here now, comforting her like this.

“You speak Czech?” Therese asked when she felt capable of pulling back, when she had some hold of herself again.

“I speak a little bit of a lot.”

Therese started to nod, realized too late the mess she’d made. Her face was a trail of tears and, oh dear God, snot. So was Betty’s shirt, the one she’d just spent the better part of ten minutes using as a handkerchief.

Betty reached around Therese, pulled tissues from a box on the tank that Therese hadn’t noticed. “Don’t sweat the shirt,” she said. “Ain’t the first or last time someone’s cried on my tits. Be thankful you don’t have a mustache for stuff to get caught in. Blow.”

Therese did so, her mortification only increasing. Betty threw the tissues away, took another towel from the rack. Therese noticed it sported a rather nice flower embroidery, noticed too late that the damp one on the sink that Betty used to wipe her face earlier had a similar pattern. “I think that’s meant to be for decoration.”

Betty shrugged. “What’s the point in hanging a towel you can’t use? Like tits on a bull, don’t make any sense.”

“I suppose not,” said Therese, her throat raw from crying as Betty dabbed her face with the towel, heedless of the embroidery. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hmm? Told you not to sweat the shirt. I’m shit at housework so for his birthday, hubby bought himself a maid and a washing machine. I’m golden.”

Therese smiled weakly. “It’s not the shirt. I am sorry about that though.”

“Uh-huh.” Betty wiped Therese’s cheek with the towel as it flushed red. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I just, shouldn’t have.”

“Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Only when I get shitty answers.”

Therese laughed, dislodging more tears that somehow hadn’t fallen already. She shouldn’t have done it because she had no right, really. There were other people here with more reason to be upset who’d held it together better. People with their child, their grandchild at risk. Her attempt to explain this to Betty was less than successful.

“You had a child out there too.”

“Yes, but I, she’s Carol’s daughter.”

“And your stepdaughter?”

“No,” Therese replied, that last word irking her for reasons she couldn’t explain. “She’s my daughter, but she only started calling me that a couple months ago.”

“So?”

Therese didn’t have an answer. It seemed like any she gave would sound stupid to Betty.

Betty put the second towel aside, looked at Therese. “No time requirement on love, honey. And no reason to talk yourself into thinking you’re not allowed to feel the same things as everyone else in there.” Betty took a cup sitting on the corner of the sink, filled it with water, held it out to Therese. “Drink up.”

Therese sipped, relieved that her hands were relatively steady. “Thank you,” she said, the water easing most of the sandpaper feeling in her throat.

“Welcome.” Betty leaned against the sink, smiled easily. “So, you work at a newspaper, huh? What’s that like?”

“You know about my job?” Therese asked, surprised.

“Peg and Steve have nice things to say about you. Also, I heard about how he accidentally claimed your kid, and it was the greatest thing ever. Not to you, I know, but…”

Betty shrugged and Therese laughed, warmed at the thought that Steve and Peggy complimented her in front of their friends, that they talked about her at all. “It’s nice. Stressful, frustrating, but I like it. What’s it like being married to a Howling Commando?”

Betty’s eyes glinted mischievously. “About what you said. Ask my darling Timothy, see if he gives you a different answer. He’s the one who’s got to be married to a much prettier, more charming Commando.”

It took Therese a moment, first to remember that Timothy was actually Dum Dum, then to realize what Betty was saying. “You?” she asked, unable to hide her surprise. “You’re a Commando?”

“For better or worse.”

Therese thought her jaw might be hanging open, drank more water to cover it. “I’ve never, I mean---”

“Seen me in the newsreels, the museums? Peggy was lucky to make those dailies every once in a blue moon, not that she even wanted to. Gal on the team’s a hard sell, let alone two. And I wouldn't let those fuckers put me in a nurse uniform. The nurses laughed themselves sick at that suggestion anyway. Besides, usually when there’s bombs around, the camera crew ain’t. Usually.”

“Bombs?”

“Peg and the boys made things go boom. I was around to keep them from going boom when the bad guys had other ideas.”

Therese stared. “You defused bombs?”

“With less fireworks than the boys did, I made sure there were still bits for Howard to play with afterwards It’s really not that hard.” Betty smiled.

Therese blinked. “How did you end up with that job?”

“Oh. Well, I was on the hook for killing my girlfriend’s father. And Peggy, other girlfriend from a lifetime ago who promised to call but never did, suddenly she pops out of the woodwork saying she can make the hook go away, assuming I don’t mind doing a little light work for the Allies.”

Therese blinked again. “You don’t have to lie. I’m used to Peggy saying things are classified.”

“Ah. My mistake.”

 “Bombs though…wasn’t that terrifying, a terrifying amount of pressure?”

“Not really? If I do my job, yay, hooray, I’m a hero, we drink to it later. If I mess up? Not my problem anymore.”

That was one outlook, Therese supposed, then remembered something Steve told her weeks ago in his garage. “Betty Carver. _Betty_.” Two people mashed into one character, both done poorly, that’s what Steve had said. “Shit.”

Betty’s smile widened. “Indeed. Seems my secret’s out.”

She should’ve known. The way Steve spoke to Betty, as a comrade, not just a comrade’s wife. What did that say about her, that she’d never even considered the possibility? “I’m sorry. You just, you don’t look like a soldier. And the comics…I didn’t recognize you.”

Betty snorted. “Thank God. I’d be offended if you did recognize me from those rags. The real stories, the good ones? Under government lockdown for the next hundred years or so. Betty Carver’s just a very, very lame attempt by idiot men to combine fabulous women. Normally I’m against book burning, but if we could dump every single copy of those things on a bonfire right now, I’d be the girl holding the match.”

“I’ve heard similar things from Peggy.” Therese smiled weakly. Minutes ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible for her to smile at all.

“Yeah. She’s got it worse. Everyone assumes that everything about that bimbo was her. Nobody knows me, not really. Only people who can really give me grief about it are the gals I used to work with.” Betty eyed her. “Don’t tell Peg I said she had it worse, she whines enough already. Promise?”

“Promise.” How had she gotten here? She’d woken up warm and contented this morning, and somehow after everything that went on, she was hearing the rest of Betty Carver’s origin story.

“Good. Now that you know, can I give you some advice, as a slandered soldier?”

“Sure.”

“You gotta rest between battles. Any chance you get, no matter how small. You’ll burn out otherwise. This thing with Rindy’s dad,” Betty tilted her head in the direction of the closed door. Carol could still be heard arguing with Harge in another room, though it was faint. “It’s scary, but you gotta see the big picture, take the win. The worst thing he can do is take her off somewhere, and there are ways to deal with that no matter what you’ve been told. You can’t deal with the other thing, what could’ve happened.”

“No,” said Therese, remembering just how close it’d come. “No, you’re right, we couldn’t.”

“You don’t have to,” Betty reminded her. “There’s only one thing you can’t plan a contingency for, and it didn’t come to that. So, rest. Hold her, hold your girl. Take the win.”

“Thank you.” Therese was much too close to crying again. “Do you have children?” Dum Dum hadn’t mentioned, but he hadn’t mentioned a lot of things.

“Nah,” Betty said after a beat of silence that Therese might’ve imagined. “My dear darling Timothy and I making more of ourselves? That would be a terrible idea.” Betty smiled. “Now, drink some more of that water, sugar. You lost a lot of hydration with all those tears.”

Therese did, the water going down easier now that her throat wasn’t threatening to close up. “Betty?”

“Yeah?”

“That story about how you were recruited. Was it true?”

“That? ‘Course not. The girlfriend whose father I was on the hook for killing wasn’t really my girlfriend at the time.”

* * *

“So, when is the baby shower for you two then? I’m sure all his has you eager to get started.”

Rose’s eyebrows climbed as she regarded Peggy. “If you weren’t my boss, ma’am…”

“As if that’s stopped you in the past,” said Peggy. She was back with Angie and Lizzie in Mr. Martinelli’s chair. Jacob was at their feet in Steve’s arms. He couldn’t decide which parent he wanted to cling to, having been unforgivably neglected by all of them. Abby and Rose sat close together on the sofa. Rindy was stretched out there too, her head in Abby’s lap, thumb planted firmly in her mouth, covered in blankets.

“She’s not my boss,” said Abby, voice pitched low as Rindy slept. “Fuck you, Carter.”

“I doubt your new beau would approve of that, darling.” The smile Peggy flashed was apologetic, over the top, and utterly charming.

“Don’t mind her.” Rose squeezed Abby’s shoulders. “She hates those sorts of questions normally. She’s just grumpy we carried on so long right under her nose.”

“I am not grumpy. I am utterly and completely thrilled for the both of you.” Peggy took in a breath, tone changing. “Lord knows we needed some pleasant news today.”

The room turned quiet a moment. Abby was the first to break the silence. “Is this what it’s like then? Horrible things happen and then they’re done, and then you just carry on as usual, make jokes?” Her tone was neutral, without judgment.

“Yes,” Steve and Peggy said at the same time.

Another moment of silence, then it was just Steve talking. “Sometimes it’s all you can do,” he said as Jake pulled at fistfuls of his shirt. “To stay sane.”

Abby nodded. More quiet. Angie broke it this time. “Really though. Way you two have been wrangling my siblings, helping keep them entertained up there without rioting. Takes skill.”

“I’m good at keeping large groups of uncooperative, slightly dangerous people at bay.” Rose shrugged.

Abby gave Rose a look, then Peggy. “Uh-huh. Is that standard fare at the phone company?”

“It is at Peg’s phone company,” said Angie.

“Hush, darling.” Peggy shifted so Angie’s head was resting against her shoulder. “Any further and it’ll be time for the non-disclosure forms, and I don’t have those here.”

“I have to sign a form to date you?” Abby asked.

“Several, potentially,” said Peggy.

“Quite something, huh?” asked Rose.

Abby tilted her head. “What makes you think I haven’t dated people who required legal documentation before? Some spy you are.”

“I’m not a spy, I just answer the phones.”

“Good girl, Rose,” said Peggy. “I don’t have those forms here.”

“No little ones on the horizon?” Steve asked. “They’re such a joy.” Jake had gone from pulling at his father’s shirt to trying to eat it.

Abby made a noise at the back of her throat. “After today we’ll be lucky if we ever risk getting a cat.”

“Cat?” Rose frowned. “Why would we get a cat?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“Every pet I’ve had since I was six has been a dog.”

“Oh honey. That’s your problem, not mine.”

Rose mumbled something about trust fund babies.

“Well now you’ve destroyed our honeymoon period,” said Abby. “I hope you’re all very happy with yourselves.” She took a breath, stroked Rindy’s hair. “Honestly, I’ve spent so much time worrying about Carol and this one even before today. Feels like I’ve already got all the stress and terror of a parent/child relationship. Without the stretchmarks.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Steve said just as Jake started fussing. Loudly. “Hungry cry, Peg.”

“Oh, I know,” Peggy said, getting up as Jacob’s volume increased rapidly. Lizzie didn’t move an inch.  “His hungry cries will haunt my dreams ‘til my dying breath.”

“And you call me dramatic,” said Angie.

Peggy took Jake from Steve, rubbed his back as it hitched up and down impatiently. “Well, should you two ever change your mind, you might consider going with one of Angie’s Neverland children.”

“Is that so?” Rose eyed Peggy with amusement.

“The kind that may have lung capacity to rival an Olympic diver, but don’t grow past a certain age.” She headed toward the stairs with Jake. “The older they get, the more troublesome and terrifying they become.”

* * *

Rest, Betty said, take the win. Good advice, Therese decided, but none that she could take while Carol was still fighting.

She’d scrubbed her face clean with Betty’s help, made herself look as presentable as she could. As strong as she could. Now the only thing was to follow Carol’s voice. She’d heard it less in the last few minutes, which could be good or bad.

Leaving the bathroom, Therese went down the hall. She heard talking downstairs, Jake fussing. She hurried past the room she knew the Martinelli kids were herded into, heard Mr. and Mrs. Martinelli arguing with several loud, adolescent voices in Italian.

Carol’s voice had come from a room at the very end of the hall, with a closed door. Therese paused in front of it, strained her ears. After a moment she heard Carol, barely, the words indistinct. She breathed and put a hand on the knob, ashamed of the small part of herself that hoped it wouldn’t turn under her hand.

These arguments with Harge stressed Therese, even though she was rarely directly involved with them. Carol would hurt afterwards, inevitably, and even after all this time Therese would feel useless, like she could do nothing to ease it.

Which didn’t mean that she _would_ do nothing.

The knob turned. Therese found herself in the master bedroom, with no small amount of unease. This wasn’t a place for guests. It was, however, where the more privately placed phone was, and so where Carol was, and so where Therese belonged.

Therese got a sideview of Carol. She was sitting on the edge of the Martinellis bed, the phone held to her ear. Carol didn’t react. Therese didn’t think Carol knew she was there. Her fingers were busying the extension cord, pulling and fussing at it in the way Rindy did sometimes, a way Carol scolded her for.

Therese had to walk a few steps closer to realize Carol was shaking.

She could hear Harge from across the room. Just his familiar cadence at first, but then words too.

“What the hell is wrong with you? She could’ve been killed!”

Therese winced. She’d heard anger from him before, barely controlled anger, but not like this. If she could hear it from several feet away, what was it like for Carol? How long had she been up here anyway with him screaming at her? An hour? No, an hour and a half, at least.

“Carol?” Therese said quietly.

Carol jumped. When she turned to face Therese, her eyes were wide, fearful. Tears ran unchecked down her face.

“Oh, Carol…” Therese wanted to rush forward, thought Carol might shrink back if she did. Therese wasn’t sure she could handle Carol cowering from her. She approached slowly, all the calm strength Betty had given her threatening to evaporate in the face of Harge’s screams. She was scared. She was enraged. And Harge was still screaming.

“You left her with strangers! All I asked you for were a few extra days and you left her with strangers!”

“They’re not…” Therese finally heard Carol’s voice again. It was weak, and trembling as badly as the rest of her body. Unrecognizable. “They’re not strangers, Harge, they—”

“You left her! To do what, have extra private time with your shopgirl?”

Therese winced as she stood next to Carol, touched her shoulder. She felt the heat rising in her face because yes, they’d made love last night, and early this morning, and that shouldn’t’ve made her sick with guilt. Therese gestured for he phone, but Carol shook her head. The smile she offered…it would’ve been better if she hadn’t tried at all.

“I’m sorry,” Carol said, voice breaking as her shoulder shook under Therese’s hand. “I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t think, you never do! From the moment you met that girl, you’ve never once thought about Rindy, and look what it’s done.”

“Harge, please, that’s not—”

“Stop, Carol, just stop! Christ. It’s not enough for you to destroy our family. She could be dead right now because of you!”

“I know that, Harge! God dammit, you don’t think I…”

It hit Therese in the chest, hard. Carol not fighting back wasn’t just a product of being worn down. She believed him, believed the hateful words he was spewing at her. She’d cried silently before, but Therese could hear it now, even when Carol put a hand over her mouth. Harge could too, probably, but he kept up.

“This is it, do you hear me? The moment that plane hits the ground—”

“Harge, please,” Carol begged, moving her hand away, openly sobbing.

“Shut up! You are the most, the most self-involved, ego-driven, irresponsible person I’ve ever met. I was an idiot to leave her with you, I should have just had the nanny stay, I knew it. I never should’ve put her at risk."

 “She’s not—”

“She nearly died, Carol!”

Carol hunched forward, folded in on herself. Her grip on the receiver seemed to slacken, but when Therese again tried to take it, Carol held on.

“Enough.”

Therese flinched, then froze. It might’ve been what she wanted to say to Carol, to scream at Harge, but it didn’t come from her, or either of them. She’d forgotten to close the door when she came in, should’ve heard Peggy approach, especially since she was holding Jake. Therese had not heard her though and barely had time to move out of the way as Peggy strode forward, plucking the phone from Carol’s hand.

“Hargess? It’s Margaret Carter.”

She spoke to him formally, but almost pleasantly, Therese noticed as Jake babbled occasional nonsense sounds. As if they’d exchanged more than one or two cursory hellos in the past two years.

There was a pause. When it came back, Harge’s voice was only slightly quieter. “Put Carol back on the phone.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you. Put Carol on the phone.”

“Yes well, I have no particular desire to speak to you either, but it’s been that sort of day. I know this is a shock, I know you’re worried sick, and I know what it’s like to be far away when your loved one needs you. “

“You don’t know a damn thing about—”

“But since you cannot be here at the moment,” Peggy said as if Harge hadn’t spoken, “the best thing you can do is to help Rindy stay calm until you arrive. I know talking to you helped a great deal. She was very happy to tell us all that her Daddy was coming home to see her. She's sleeping now, however, and when she wakes up, the last thing she needs is to see her mother, the only parent currently in her reach, panicked or upset."

Peggy shot Therese a glance at that, an apology, Therese thought. One parent. Harge still didn’t like it that Rindy called her Mama.

“Who the hell are you to tell me how to deal with my family?” Harge’s voice was rising again.

“Someone who’s seen your family go through a horrendous ordeal today and doesn’t want it made worse."

“And who’s fault was that, the ‘ordeal’ my daughter went through?”

“No one’s. It was a freak accident. A terrible one, yes, but an accident.”

“Right, because nothing’s ever her fault, is it?"

 “I’m sure a great many things are, but not this.”

"You'd defend any of her bullshit, wouldn't you? Any fucking tricks she pulls, your entire group is always on her side to--"

"How’s your connection there by the way?" Peggy interrupted his rising voice again, ignoring Jacob's hand curling in her top, "I can hear you just fine on this end, but you do seem to keep raising your voice."

“I have nothing to say to you. Put Carol on the fucking phone.”

“No, I don't think that's a good idea. I know you’re upset, but—”

“Upset? My child was buried alive!”

“Incidentally, so was mine,” Peggy said, an edge of annoyance slipping into her voice. “So yes, I know you’re upset. You can express that well enough without alerting the tri-state area.”

“Goddamn you. I love Rindy more than anything in this world, and if you think—”

“I know you love her, Hargess, I love her too. Right now, the best thing for her is for you to stop blustering like an imbecile and put that emotion toward something useful, something other than harassing your ex-wife, the only comfort your daughter has right now. They've both been through enough today.”

“You think you know what’s best for my daughter?"

"In this case, yes."

"Go ahead and spout your bullshit, all that poison inside a pretty package. You are never going to see my little girl again, and neither is she. You tell her that, since she’s too much of a coward to come to the phone."

"Harge--" Carol tried to speak, but it was broken, barely audible.

"Running away, like always.”

"It's hardly running away when I'm the one who's taken the phone from her. I've been in your shoes before, Hargess, and it's a terrible spot to be in. But that's no excuse for taking it out on someone who's innocent in all this. You weren't here either."

"I wasn't off fucking a shopgirl."

"No, just a receptionist. How is the little stranger?"

There was silence, and Peggy closed her eyes as if she hadn't meant to speak the words, a silent curse falling from her lips.

"Is that a threat?"

"Only as much as is deserved. Leave this alone for now, Harge. Think on it more when you've landed here, you've seen she's safe, and your mind is in charge, not your emotions."

“You’ve got some nerve talking down to me, lecturing me about family. Look at the state of yours.”

“Excuse me?”

“Stay out of my business. You’ve got more than enough to deal with, your fiancé fucking that whore actress.”

Therese shivered. Peggy’s mouth turned into the thinnest of lines. Even without the blood red lipstick (she’d probably rushed out after hearing about Lizzie), Therese still had visions of a predator. Peggy’s eyes went hard and sharp. Even Jake was suddenly quiet in her arms, something Therese barely had time to notice before Peggy handed the baby off to her, forcing Therese to take him as Peggy stood ramrod straight.

Therese shared a look with Carol and saw her unease mirrored back on her. One of Peggy’s nails, unpainted, tapped at the receiver in a way that might’ve seemed lazy if not for how white her knuckles had become. When she spoke, there was no more false pleasantry, only ice.

“Hargess. I know that you are aware of certain things about my family. I know Rindy tells you these things, and that you think this gives you some sort of leverage over us. In this case, it’s helpful because I can tell you this without having to change a word to fit the public story. Don’t you ever, _ever_ speak of my wife that way again. Steve has rules regarding how much hurt he’ll allow himself to inflict on a civilian. I don’t.”

Therese shivered again. Peggy was a true force, in a way Therese had guessed and heard about but never seen before. She would’ve commanded Therese’s full attention, if Jake weren’t busy pulling at Therese’s top, presumably searching for a meal.

“Now,” Peggy said, still ice and sharp edges. “The accident had nothing to do with Carol’s relationship with Therese, any more than it did your, situation, with your secretary. So, if you’re trying to turn this into a tale of divided loyalties, don’t. Glass houses and all that. And your home has far more windows than it used to, if I’m not mistaken.”

There was silence. So long that Therese thought Harge had hung up. As she was swatting small, grabbing hands away from her left breast, Harge’s voice came back. Therese had to strain to hear it.

“You are mistaken.”

“Really. Well it has been known to happen once or twice in a decade. Would you like to test the theory?”

Harge gave no reply.

“Good. So, you _are_ capable of self-restraint. I wasn’t sure you’d ever had to practice the skill before. That makes things easier.” Peggy’s voice went impossibly colder, more like the steel of the New York skyline covered in ice and snow. “Watch your words, Hargess. You’re not the only one with money and power. The difference is that I have more of both, and far more creative ways of using them. Certainly more creative than a morality clause and a dime store detective. I’m going to assume, based on prior behavior that was not entirely brainless, that some part of you knows the truth of the situation. That yanking Rindy from her mother’s arms will be much worse for her than the accident that happened today.  Calm down. Have a drink, perhaps, but just the one. Think of what present you’ll bring back for Rindy, who I’ll remind you is filled to the brim with soup and hot chocolate, and perfectly safe. You’ll reach the right conclusion.”

Therese looked at Carol, listened hard for any response from Harge. She stopped trying to halt Jacob, let him look for food that wasn’t there.

“And if you don’t,” said Peggy. “remember what I’ve said. Glass houses, and it won’t be Rindy who gets hurt if yours shatters around you. You’re in another league now, and you are not remotely prepared for it, so think carefully about what you do next. Rindy is waiting for you. Do have a safe flight home.”

Peggy hung up. She lingered motionless by the phone for just a moment, eyes closed. Then she took Jake from Therese as quickly as she’d handed him off. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she muttered. “Leave your aunt alone, you little hedonist.” She turned her gaze on Carol. “It’s not your fault. Get that rubbish out of your head. It’s alright, darling.”

Carol nodded weakly, probably as floored by Peggy’s rapid change in demeanor as Therese. It was like the Peggy of the last few minutes never existed.

“What,” Carol had to clear her throat. “What was that, Peggy?”

“What was what?” she asked, seemingly distracted as she bounced Jake and stilled his hands.

“Those things you said to him,” said Therese.

“Hmm? I was just talking. Everyone has secrets, no matter how boring. Act as though you already know them and you do, as far as the other person’s concerned. Take a few minutes, clean yourself up before you head back downstairs.”

Carol nodded, but Peggy was already facing away from her, headed out the door.

“Half the bloody country already thinks she’s your sister, don’t they, love? Maybe Daddy and his big mouth helped us after all, hmm?"

* * *

Peggy held Jacob securely as he took her breast, his eyes half-closed. He was utterly content, all his tiny worries gone for the moment.

Peggy was awed by him. She envied him. Neither feeling was new.

Creaking floorboards meant that Carol and Therese had likely left her in-laws room a short time ago. Ignoring the call of a bed built for a grown adult, Peggy stayed in Pietro and Patrizia’s room, which contained a distinctly smaller number of toys than she was used to. Probably, half of them were in another bedroom, where the twins were being kept with the older boys. It would be a mess of excitement and worry and apologies when Lizzie woke up, when Angie’s siblings were allowed to see her.

Peggy would deal with it then. For now, Lizzie remained sleeping, and Peggy occupied the place she’d slept last night. She imagined she could smell the shampoo Sofia would’ve used on Rindy and Lizzie.

Peggy knew it was still snowing without drawing the curtains on the windows. The old radio the Martinellis sill used (despite Angie buying them a television with one of her first big paychecks) said it wouldn’t let up until early tomorrow morning. Peggy wondered how many power lines had gone down today, would still go down. Angelo Sr. would be back at work on them tomorrow, without enough sleep. That was simply how her father in-law worked. How much static would cover the lines, confuse callers as they checked after loved ones?

The radio on the _Valkyrie_ had been quite clear indeed, until it wasn’t. Until Steve voice gave way to static, then nothing.

Very little interference on the radios Howard used, though that was to be expected. She could still hear him directing men on to the next pair of coordinates, the next checkpoint, and the next, and the next.

She’d accompanied him on a few of his rescue missions, when he’d insisted so vehemently that he could and would find the plane. Find Steve. She remembered the flying that came before the diving, the endless sea of white, of ice and snow. Somewhere close, in all that white, was Steve and the plane and the radio that’d worked perfectly until the end, until there was nothing left to hear.

Peggy was not surprised when Steve eased the door open, nor was she surprised by the tears on her cheeks. She said nothing as he closed the door behind him, leant one arm against it.

“You sure told him,” Steve said, a giant in a room made for children.

“Someone had to. It was long overdue.” She was also not surprised that he heard everything.

Steve nodded. “Might’ve just poked the bear, pissed him off worse.”

Peggy hitched out a breath that was annoyed and tear-filled. “Bear. He’s a goddamn poodle, and he probably will try to piss all over everyone once he finds his balls again. I’ll deal with it then.”

“I don’t doubt.”

She took another breath, this one less jagged. “I just needed him to shut up.”

“Don’t doubt that either.” Steve’s lips were curved in a soft smile as he crossed the room in two long strides, met mother and child.

“Don’t think of it,” Peggy warned, closing her eyes against that smile and the fresh tears that wanted to fall. “We’ll break the bed.”

“Happened before.”

“The bed that is in the home of Angie’s parents.”

Steve shrugged. Peggy’s eyes remained closed, but she could see it clear in her mind’s eye. “Happened before.”

“It’s a child’s bed, Rogers.”

“First time for everything. We’ll buy her another.”

“Well go on then.”

Peggy only opened her eyes when she had to. It was an operation, getting his body and hers to occupy the small space. Jake made his frustration known every time their movements interrupted his evening meal, but soon enough he and Peggy were sat between Steve’s legs, his feet planted on the floor either side of the mattress to keep them from dangling off the end. Peggy held Jake cradled to her breast, her back pressed against Steve's chest, his arms wrapped around her to help support Jake, warming her.

They’d made due in smaller spaces before.

During all this, Peggy’s tears never stopped and Steve didn’t comment on them. It was only after several minutes of Peggy feeling the gentle up and down of Steve’s breathing that she spoke.

“You should’ve given me the coordinates. Had to be so bloody dramatic.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

They’d had this discussion. Sometimes he reminded her that had he given his location, as she’d so reasonably and politely asked him to over the radio, yes they would’ve found him right away, probably made that eight o’ clock date at the Stork Club, but then she’d have missed so many other dates. She’d never have walked into the L&L, never met Angie. Peggy would’ve had those missed years with Steve, but so many more without Angie, which meant he would’ve missed her too. Their life together would be slightly longer, but unrecognizable.

Sometimes Steve reminded her of this. He didn’t now.

“This damn weather,” Peggy said, though she wasn’t thinking of _this_ weather, this place. “I hate it.”

“I know.” Steve pushed her curls aside, kissed the back of her neck. “Me too.”

It made sense, she supposed. If Steve could sleep through a few years in freezing ocean water, why shouldn’t Lizzie be able to nap away a few hours buried in the snow? It made sense, as much as anything did.

She’d gone with Howard a few times, but no more. He’d yelled at her first, told her she didn’t know Steve the way he did. That he’d created him and knew him better and Steve was alive. Howard would bring him home even if Peggy quit. Howard was drunk when he said this and apologized later, another scene that played out more than once over the years. Soon enough he stopped ranting and said only that he would bring Steve home.

And then, ten years ago, when he was hallucinating, thinking that finally, finally, he was going to make good on his promise, that he’d found Steve, Peggy had to sit at another radio and talk him down, snap him out of it. Convince him to give up on Steve.

At least it hadn’t been snowing then.

At least Howard hadn’t heeded her completely (he almost never did). He didn’t end his missions in the Arctic full-stop, only cut back on them. And made the switch from rescue to recovery.

If he’d listened to her, Steve would still be where the cold had swallowed him up. The cold would’ve never had the chance to take Lizzie.

She hated this goddamn weather, the white and the cold that wanted to steal away everyone she loved.

“I couldn’t find you.”

“What?” The frown could be heard in Steve’s voice.

“I couldn’t find you. I went with Howard a few times but it was torture. It was too much.”

“Peggy…”

“I told him to stop looking for you.”

“You were right. You had to keep living. Everyone did.”

His chin was against her hair, his arms tightened around her. The stronger feeling of safety only made the tears worse.

“I couldn’t find her. I couldn’t find them.” It was her job to do the things no one else could, run the operations no one else was capable of. Yet the things that mattered most, she could never do.

Jacob pulled away, making confused, agitated sounds. His features scrunched together as he fed off her stress.

“Shhh, hey.” Steve braced his arms over hers, helped steady the baby as Peggy’s chest rose and fell in a pained rhythm. “Calm, okay? Everything’s okay.”

She didn’t know if he was addressing her or Jake, but she knew the tone. He’d used it on terrified boys passing as men who’d just gotten their first taste of war. Real war, not what the propaganda reels showed. Not what Steve himself showed on those reels. He’d used it on emaciated prisoners in the camps, some of whom barely remembered their own names, reduced to a bit of ink on a stick-thin arm. He’d used it on men who were going to die in minutes, some of whom knew it, some who didn’t.

There was an undercurrent this time, a certain note that none of those people ever got. It used to be reserved for her, until Angie Martinelli cast the same spell on him as she did Peggy.  She had a slight tendency toward jealousy where he was concerned, but hearing him use that tone on the woman she loved had only ever thrilled her.

Jacob’s frustration at not being able to eat would’ve pushed her over the edge, into the kind of crying fit she didn’t have time to recover from, if not for Steve. He steadied her, literally and otherwise, spoke quietly to Jacob.

“Shhh, buddy, it’s alright. We’ll get there, it’s okay. It’s all okay, give us a minute.”

He did not try to hush her, only kissed her sometimes, where he could. His breathing stayed perfectly even, a counter to hers. She wondered if he’d had the time he was giving her, the time to break. Probably not. He’d rarely been out of her sight in the hours since he carried Rindy in and he wouldn’t break until he was sure he could. Until everyone else had and there was no one else he might have to hold up.

“I won’t lose any of you. Not again.” She said it as a statement, almost a threat to anyone or anything that might have different ideas. It was a plea, really. Begging.

“No.” Steve’s voice was warm and calm in her ear, his breath at her back, Jacob’s against her chest. “You won’t. I’ll give the coordinates next time, and we’ve got Angie now to keep us from being completely stupid. We’re unbeatable. No one’s going anywhere. Not ever.”

If he was making promises he couldn’t keep so that the both of them could feel better, Peggy wasn’t going to call him on it. Sometimes the simple, rah rah rah rallying messages he’d spent the first part of his time as Captain America selling, sometimes those were needed more than a harder, more complicated truth.

Peggy cried here, where it was safe. She couldn’t afford to do it anywhere else, with anyone else. When the worst of it had passed (she didn’t have time to truly fall apart, she almost never did), Jake was able to eat, which calmed her further. This she could do, give. If she’d failed or nearly failed today, she could give him this, and take what he gave in return, and be able to function when she walked back out that door.

“Goddamn hormones,” she muttered, sniffling away the last of her tears. “Look what this boy has done to me.”

Steve kissed her head, traced Jake’s features with a gentle finger. “Know what you mean.”

Peggy turned her head, regarded him. “Do you, Steven, do you really?”

“You don’t think my body was going haywire after Howard pumped it full of radiation and untested drugs?”

“Oh, don’t fuss. Plenty of people have survived Howard pumping far worse substances into their bodies.”

They were quiet awhile. Jacob had his fill and Peggy burped him, leaving him content and immune to worry. Peggy should’ve gotten up then, but leaned back into Steve instead. She closed her eyes, felt his breath match hers. Jacob was drowsy and still, and Peggy was sure she could follow him into sleep any moment, just for a few minutes. She’d been known to go three days on nearly as little sleep as Steve, but those feats were almost impossible since she had Jacob.

Bloody little monster, she thought fondly. Soon enough she’d recover from what his grand entrance had done to her, stop with the damn waterworks. Though perhaps she could get a few minutes rest first.

Steve stiffened. Peggy felt it, felt the change in the way he held them. He tilted his head a bit, as he sometimes did when he was listening hard. Angie was not averse to comparing him to a Golden Retriever. “What?” Peggy asked, instantly alert because he was, because she’d been at war with him and the survival of their entire unit often rested on these reactions of his, and some of her own responses were built into her DNA now, like the serum was in his. Wartime or not, some things would never change.

Steve let out a long breath against Peggy’s back. His answer, as it always was when they were tuned into each other like this, was simple and direct.

“She’s awake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter. 
> 
> And yes, I stole Betty from Bomb Girls and made her a Commando. It still makes more sense than Gladys Witham being a spy, fight me.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corporal punishment discussed here. Not in detail, and in a very casual way that would’ve been normal for the time period, hopefully not so normal now. Nothing actually happens, but if this is something that doesn’t sit right with you, know that it’s there.

Therese expected it to go differently. When Rindy woke up somewhere different than she’d fallen asleep, it was as though she’d been transported to another planet. She’d drifted off at Abby’s house one night, and there was a minor meltdown when she woke up in the car, still twenty minutes from home. Carol had to pull over.

Lizzie clearly wasn’t Rindy. There were no small movements, no yawns, nothing to warn them that she’d chosen this moment to finally wake up. She was simply laying in Angie’s arms, and then she wasn’t. She just sat up, looked around the room.

“Hi Mama,” she said, as Therese had heard her say it countless times.

Visibly startled, Angie still recovered faster than she had any right to. “Hey you.” She was almost able to mimic her daughter’s casual tone.

“I’m not in the snow anymore,” she said, checking her surroundings again.

“No.” Angie hugged her. “No you’re not.”

“This is Nonno’s chair. We’re not s’posed to use Nonno’s chair.”

“It’s okay just the once. Don’t tell your aunt and uncles though.”

“Okay. I’m hungry.”

Therese was stuck between laughter and tears.

“Daddy!” Lizzie yelled.

Steve, big as he was, had managed to come downstairs without anyone noticing. He held Jake against him while Peggy rebuttoned her top. Therese tried not to notice that.

“And Mummy. Mummy’s here too,” Peggy said. “You could feign an interest in Mummy.” She was smiling.

Rose took Jake from Steve as Lizzie got hopelessly entangled in her cocoon of blankets. She spoke in English and Italian, so fast Therese couldn’t recognize even the words from her own language.

“Yes, I came back.” Steve knelt to be on Lizzie’s level, helping untwist the mess she’d made. “Yes, I came back for you, of course I did. No, I didn’t bring any treats, I’m sorry.”

“Daddy!” she said again, throwing herself into his arms as soon as she could. “Daddy.”

“Lizzie, Lizzie.”

His voice was calm, but Therese saw his shoulders shaking.

“Are you cold?” he asked, still cradling her close to his chest.

“No. I was, but I’m warm now. And hungry.”

Lizzie’s stomach rumbled loudly enough to be heard throughout the room.

Steve chuckled. “Nonna and Nonno both made soup.”

Lizzie pulled back from him, her eyes landing on Rindy sleeping on the couch. “Rindy!”

Peggy sighed, kneeled, cupped Lizzie’s face. “My darling,” she said, half endearment, half warning.

“Hi, Mommy. Is it bedtime?” Lizzie frowned. “Is Rindy okay?”

“She’s fine, my love, but speak softly, alright?”

“Why?” Lizzie asked, not at all softly.

“She waited up for you, tesoro,” Angie said. “As long as she could, while you were resting up. Let her sleep now, okay?”

Lizzie’s frown deepened. “She said it was bad to sleep, but I did anyway. Is it bad for her to sleep?”

“No, darling, not anymore,” Peggy said, voice much quieter than Lizzie’s. “But she needs rest, like you did, so—”

“Rindy!” Lizzie yelled when Rindy shifted the slightest bit in Abby’s lap.

“Let her sleep,” Peggy said on a sigh, giving first Carol then Therese apologetic looks as Rindy startled awake, sat up.

“Lizzie!”

There was no hope after that. The children talked over each other, climbed over adults to hug at each other, neither caring that Lizzie was only in underwear. Abby went to dip into the enormous surplus of soup. Peggy dressed Lizzie and asked her questions, most of which she ignored in favor of asking Rindy things and stuffing bread into her mouth.

Lizzie was happy to see her grandparents, but elated when she realized the Dugans were here.

“Auntie Betts!” she exclaimed, wrapping arms and legs around Betty. “Did you come with Daddy?”

“You know it, little lady,” Dugan said while Lizzie maintained what looked like a minor chokehold on his wife.  “We rushed like mad to get here and see you, too. Your daddy almost slid us right off a bridge. We nearly died!”

He told this story with expansive hand gestures and much enthusiasm. Lizzie giggled and released Betty with one arm, stretching it up to steal Dugan’s bowler hat and plop it over her curls.

It was utterly bizarre to Therese, how quickly the atmosphere changed, at least where Lizzie was concerned.

Lizzie sat in Steve’s lap as she ate her soup, making Therese think of all the times she complained about Jacob and the privileges he had as a baby unable to feed himself. She waved to him now, where he was tucked safely against Rose but squirming excitedly at the sight of her.

“Hi, Jakey,” she said, dunking an oversized chunk of bread in her soup. “Did he miss me?” she asked Peggy who had the chair next to Steve, had one of Lizzie’s hands as she ate.

“I know for certain that he did. Did you miss him?”

Lizzie shrugged. “A little.” She waved to him again, made a silly face.

After draining her bowl, Lizzie declared that she was still hungry and could she have dessert since Daddy hadn’t brought any treats. Sofia took what bread hadn’t disappeared with the soup and made toast with cinnamon and sugar. Rindy ate considerably less than Lizzie, but still ended up with a sweet dust coating her lips. Heedless of this, Therese held Rindy close, the sugar landing on her shirt, She was sitting at the kitchen table with Carol and one child filled to the brim, another who was still working on clearing her plate yet again., and two parents who had to be just as drained and relieved as she and Carol were.

Therese closed her eyes, rocked Rindy very slightly, reminded herself that it was okay, everything was okay now. She was so focused on this that she didn’t hear the boy approach until he spoke.

“Hi, Rindy. Hi, Miss Bel’vet.” There was the slightest pause. “Hi, Lizzie.”

Opening her eyes, Therese saw one of the middle Martinelli boys, the ones who were harder to tell apart. She guessed him to be about ten, but his sad eyes and hangdog expression made him look younger.

“Hey, Vittore,” Lizzie said, saving Therese from having to try and remember his name.

Vittore shot a glance at his parents, who were in the living room talking to Angie. “You okay, Lizzie?”

Lizzie nodded, continued attacking her toast.

Vittore shifted on his feet. “The boys said to tell you they’re sorry. ‘Sario and Benny and Francesco. I wasn’t there,” he added, saying it to Steve and Peggy. “I wasn’t there at all.”

“We know, Vittore,” said Steve.

Vittore let out a breath, small shoulders sagging in relief. “Pietro was,” he said, lowering his voice. “But he’s just little, he’s too dumb to do anything ‘cept follow the bigger ones. It’s not his fault they’re dumb too sometimes.”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you think, maybe I could have some of that too?” Vittore asked, nodding at Rindy’s plate and the half-slice of toast resting on it. “If you’re not going to eat it, Rindy? Just, we’re real hungry. Real, real hungry.”

“Okay,” Rindy said, tucking herself further against Therese.

“Hey, knock it off.” Sofia approached, waving a finger at him. “What kind of man are you, stealing a girl’s toast after what she’s been through.”

“I’m not a man, Mama.”

“I noticed.”

“She said I could!”

Sofia dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “You haven’t been locked in a tower starving all day, so quit acting like it. No more begging for food like a poor little orph…”

As Therese watched, Sofia glanced her way.

“Urchin,” she finished. Then she went to the counter and plated more toast. Angie followed her from the living room, stopped next to her spouses and daughter

"Here. Condividere con i gemelli,” Sofia said, handing him the food.

Vittore looked down at the plate that held three slices, all glistening with sugar, but paused. Most kids would have accepted and ran to hide, but he waited. "Mammina... E i grandi ragazzi?" His words were half hopeful, half worried.

"Marco's going back out with your papa to fix the mess outside."

"But... what 'bout 'Cesco and ‘Sario and Benny?"

"Those three..." Sofia trailed off in a small tirade of Italian that had Vittore looking down at his plate quietly until Steve spoke up.

"Basta! Hanno sofferto più di un semplice senso di colpa."

Sofia eyed Steve, "Stevano..."

"Basta." Steve said simply, leaning his head against Angie's.

"Steve's right, Ma. Leave it for now. Please?"

Sofia eyed her daughter. The gaze only softened when it found Lizzie, happily oblivious and finishing off her toast. Sofia shook her head, gave Vittore a light shove and words Therese couldn’t hear. The boy scampered off, holding his plate carefully on the stairs.

“Come here, little one,” Sofia said, holding her arms out for Lizzie. “You’re a mess.”

“Am not, I’m a princess.”

“You’re a messy princess. Venire.”

Lizzie moved from Steve’s arms into hers. Sofia carried her toward the downstairs bathroom.

“You think anyone remembers she can walk?” Angie asked, leaning into Steve’s side as he slipped an arm around her waist.

“I think it’ll be awhile before anyone cares,” Steve replied, lips quirked as he regarded Therese holding onto Rindy. Carol sat forward in her chair, touched Therese’s arm, Rindy’s back.

Angie hummed, kissed the side of Steve’s head. “Baby, the boys...”

“I know. I’ll talk to them. Talk to her. She likes me.”

“Sometimes she likes you,” Angie said, her tone agreeable.

“What was that about?” asked Therese, couldn’t help herself.

Angie sighed. “You went to a Catholic school, right? Catholic-ish. I think you know.”

She did. It was why she’d told Carol to tell Rindy she wasn’t in trouble earlier, while they were searching.

Carol winced. “Francesco. He was the one who called me to say, say what was happening. He seemed terrified.”

“I’m sure he was,” said Angie. “I’m sure he still is.”

“I’ll handle it. Promise.”

Therese saw him go upstairs awhile later, but was more focused on Rindy and Lizzie than the movements of others still in the house. By then Rindy had switched back to clinging to Carol, leaving Therese free for other tasks. As she made her way up the stairs, she saw Steve in the hallway, speaking quietly to three Martinelli boys. Rosario she knew with certainty. The shorter one was Francesco, she guessed, the one who’d called Carol. Benny, the oldest of the three, she only remembered because his proper name was Benito and she’d heard Sofia grumble about ‘that damn Mussolini’ ruining her child’s name.

Sent up to retrieve a book from the twins’ room, Therese couldn’t do so without passing them, which left her standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs and hoping no one noticed her Which was already a lost cause where Steve was concerned.

As she watched, Steve embraced the younger two at the same time, said something to Rosario that made him wipe his eyes. Benny he leaned close to, clasped on the shoulder. Francesco was the first to notice her, quickly followed by the other two. All looked younger than they were, all looked relieved and chastened to varying degrees. They ducked their heads and retreated to the room with their siblings, barely looking at her. Therese wondered who was more uncomfortable with the whole thing.

Their retreat left her with Steve and no one else. She closed the distance between them. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied. “Everything okay down there?”

“Fine. Lizzie wants some book that has a bear and a toad and river rafting?” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture.

“Ah.” He smiled. “No fear, I was in there earlier. Come on.”

She followed him to the twins’ room, hung back near the door as he plucked a book from a messy shelf, hardly seeming to look. He handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, running a thumb over the cover.

He nodded as they left the room. “How are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” she said quite honestly. “Better than I was, relieved, obviously, but I don’t know. You?”

He stood still just outside the door. Therese thought for a moment that he wouldn’t answer. “Tired,” he said finally.

She didn’t think he meant physically, had heard that it took a lot more than something like today to tire him physically. It occurred to her then that she didn’t even know how he worked, if emotional stress could translate to the other kind for him. “Me too. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep at all.” She paused, studied the book cover with more intensity than it deserved. “Is this what it’s like, for you, your kids?”

“What do you mean?”

“Peggy and Carol were, they were worried for a bit that someone might’ve taken the girls.”

“Makes sense,” he said, calm, level.

“I’ve just never,” she abandoned the book cover, looked at Steve. “The worst I’ve ever feared for Rindy is that Harge would take her away.” She’d known that horrible things could happen, of course, but it was an abstract fear, not like the other, not the kind that kept her up at night. “Besides about two minutes, one time, when I lost sight of her at the park, I’ve never…”

“Been so scared?”

“Yes.” She imagined all of the terrifying things in the world, what people were capable of. Things she _couldn’t_ imagine, not really, but Steve and Peggy had witnessed firsthand. “Is it always going to be this way now? Being scared to death of what might happen?”

His smile was wry. “Always. Just won’t be as loud as it is now. It’s always there somewhere though, in the background. Welcome to parenthood.”

His words reminded her of something Richard had once said. She didn’t like comparing the two. “I didn’t think I wanted children,” she said, unsure why she’d voiced it.

“No?” He moved a bit so his back was against the wall, sank down to the floor and drew his knees up. Said again that he was tired, though he did this so quietly Therese wondered if she’d made it up.

When he patted the space next to him, Therese followed suit, kept the book in her lap as she sat beside him. “Richard talked about it, but I could never see that far.”

“With him, or at all?”

 “Both. I didn’t know what sort of mother I’d make.”

“I think you’ve got the answer to that.”

“Do I?”

“The way Rindy holds onto you? Yeah, I think you do.”

Therese chuckled. “Half the time I feel like I’ve got no idea what I’m doing, even with Carol there.”

“Another sign that you’re doing it right.”

She laughed again, looked in the direction of the closed door housing most of the Martinelli children. “Are the boys okay?”

Steve sighed, leaned his head back against the wall. “They will be. Girls will be too. It happened, now all we can do is make sure everyone’s okay. Belt’s not going to help anything.”

“It didn’t with you?” Therese asked, careful but curious now, aware of all the things she didn’t know about him.

Steve snorted. “You kidding? I had to be the only kid in Brooklyn who wasn’t getting it from someone. Grownups all thought I’d keel over if they looked at me wrong, let alone hit me. It was just the kids who knew better.”

Therese laughed, though she probably shouldn’t have. She’d heard the stories. “Sister Annie,” she said, leaning against his arm. “She gave me almost the worst beating of my life. Ten, no, eleven years ago now.” She remembered because it’d been in ’45. The radios were all abuzz with news of how the war was over, the world saved, and Captain America dead. She shivered at the thought and Steve moved his arm, put it across her shoulders.

“And what did you do to earn the wrath of Sister Annie?” he asked.

“Had my first kiss with a boy. His hand was on my waist.”

 “Well damn, how dare you?”

“I know. She was determined to teach me the error of my ways.”

“And now instead of kissing boys, you’re living in sin with a woman. So, hitting either worked way too well or not at all. You’ll have to tell Sofia that story, help my case.”

“No.” Therese thought of something. “And cuddling with an engaged man, I’m doing that, I suppose. The school really failed.”

“Completely. But, no hands on your waist from the engaged man,” he said, tapping her shoulder. “Has to count for something.”

It seemed funnier than it was, she was sure. Just the stress and emotions of the day. Still, it took them a moment to stop laughing. “Wouldn’t matter. That woman was brutal. If she saw this, she’d be making up for all those beatings you didn’t get as a child.”

“Good thing she’s not here then.”

Therese nodded against Steve’s shoulder. It occurred to her for the first time that Sister Annie might well be gone by now, and not in the way Sister Alicia was gone after she left for California.

Shit.

Hopefully Sister Annie had only _seemed_ ancient to Therese’s child eyes, and she wasn’t speaking ill of the dead right after a day of intense prayer. The nun’s arm had certainly been in good working order.

“So, what was the worst?” Steve asked.

“Hmm?”

“The boy was the second worst beating you ever got. What topped it?”

“Oh.” Therese lowered her eyes, examined the book cover again. “Nothing much.”

Steve shifted, looked at her. “Therese?”

And, hell. Now he thought it was something terrible that he had to worry about, that he had to worry about her after the day they’d already had. “I read too much. They didn’t like it sometimes.”

“I’d think they’d prefer reading to boys.”

“Depended on the subject,” Therese mumbled, heat flooding her cheeks. “I had a book they really didn’t want me to have.”

“What book?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not even a little bit, but I’m curious.”

Therese rolled her eyes, exhaled. “I think it was called _Fanny Hill_ , I don’t remember.” Which was a lie. She’d remember even if she hadn’t been caught, got the worst punishment in her then fifteen years of life.

Steve was quiet a moment. “You got caught with a porno,” he said as though he were trying to work the words out in his head.

Therese hit his arm, to absolutely no effect. “It was not, that,” she said, lowering her voice automatically. “It was a novel.”

Steve nodded. “A porno novel.”

She’d hoped the innocuous title would mean nothing to him. “It’s literature, like anything else,” she said on another mumble.

“Most literature doesn’t contain the term ‘nethermouth.’”

He said it with such a straight face and lack of inflection that Therese burst out laughing, used Lizzie’s book to cover her face, hide the deepening blush. “You’re one to talk, obviously you know it.”

“I was a soldier, I know all the pornos. So, you smuggled that in and got caught?”

“I did not! Bernice Canfield smuggled it in. Half the girls at school had already read it, I was just the last one who had it when they decided to check around, so I got blamed.”

“And you’re not angry about it anymore, not one bit,” Steve said, grinning.

Therese huffed, hit his arm again. She could call back the feeling of that punishment easily enough, decided she would no longer hope that Sister Annie was still here. She wondered at the chances of Bernice being in New York, hoped if she was that she remained trapped in her apartment with frozen pipes.

“Is it that surprising to you,” she asked, “me reading—”

“Porn? Yes, that’d be a yes.”

“Well, don’t judge a book by its cover.” And lord, they shouldn’t be having this conversation while she held a children’s book. “I thought you’d know that better than anyone.”

“Fair point. You should tell Sofia _that_ story. Much better story.”

“I’m not telling her I read…that.”

“It’s just a novel, right, why wouldn’t you tell her?”

“You’re not a good person, everything everyone says is a lie.”

“What makes you think Sofia hasn’t read it?”

“Ugh.” Therese shuddered, unable to offer up anything else.

He chuckled and gave her shoulders a squeeze and they relaxed, Therese worried she might cry from the sudden laughter. At least Peggy had Jake as an excuse for emotional upheaval.

“I never thought I’d have kids either,” he said suddenly.

Therese didn’t hide her surprise. “You didn’t want them?”

“Didn’t say that, said I never thought I’d have them.”

“Why?”

That wry smile returned. “Books and covers, right? I was a poor artist. Literally starving. Not exactly a catch. Take a look at my medical file someday, I think it’s in a museum somewhere. More things wrong with me than right. Nobody wanted to make babies with someone like that, and I can’t blame them. I didn’t think I’d live long enough for it anyway.”

“Steve…”

“Hey, it’s okay. Nobody did. Bucky, when I kept trying to enlist, he’d keep asking if I was trying to get myself killed.”

“But you weren’t.”

“Of course not. Life’s, you don’t just throw it away. But when you’re going to die before thirty anyway, might as well die doing something that matters. I didn’t want death, it just didn’t scare me all that much.”

Therese supposed when you lived with the threat of it hanging over you since birth, that threat would eventually become less powerful. “I never thought of it,” she said truthfully. “Dad died and that was…but me, that happening to me, it didn’t cross my mind much. And when it did, it didn’t seem to matter, really.”

“No?”

Therese shrugged. “ _I_ didn’t matter that much, did I?” she asked without asking. “Not then.”

Steve tensed for just a moment, she felt it. He squeezed her shoulders again. “You always mattered.”

“I just mean,” she tapped the book cover, attempted to puzzle out exactly what she did mean. “It’s different now, with Rindy. Dad dying, I only saw one side of it for the longest time. He died and things fell apart and sometimes I’d blame him for that. But now Rindy, Rindy looks at me like I know everything, like I’m this…like I’m supposed to be here forever. And I’m supposed to protect her from everything and she, I think she still thinks that I can. She…”

“She loves you,” Steve said simply.

“I know,” Therese replied. “And I love her, so much, and it’s amazing and beautiful and, and terrifying.”

“Yeah, sounds about right. And you never prepared for it, never thought you’d feel it.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“I know. Me neither.” He was quiet a moment. “It’s worth it though, isn’t it? It’s worth everything, including this.” He lifted his free hand in some vague gesture meant to encompass the hell of the last hours.

“Yes,” Therese said without having to think about it. She _did_ think of how she never wanted to live anything this terrifying again, worth it or not. She prayed silently to that effect, tired and out of practice. She let herself rest against Steve, listening to the sounds below.

* * *

 “Hey, slowpoke. You get lost up there?”

Carol’s voice was warm and almost normal and Therese smiled as she approached, book in hand. “Sorry.”

Carol was on the floor now, leant back against the recliner. Her posture was relaxed, but she stayed within touching distance of Rindy, who lay sprawled out on her belly on a nest of pillows and blankets that’d still been in construction when Therese went upstairs.  There was plenty of space, but Lizzie had chosen to lay right across Rindy, who seemed determined to ignore her.

“The sun’s awake so I’m awake!” Lizzie proclaimed as Therese stepped over everything, took the empty space beside Carol. This was the first time in hours Rindy hadn’t been glued to one or both of them, and Therese sighed at the feeling of being able to press against Carol, hold her fully. Steve’s presence was comforting in a different way she couldn’t articulate, but Carol was home.

“The sun is not ‘wake,” Rindy replied, tiredness making her sound younger than she was. “It’s going to sleep and so am I!”

“Oh. I can be an owl then. They're up at night. Be an owl with me."

"No, Lizzie!"

"Lizzie, come, leave Rindy alone."

This came just above them, from Angie, who was back in her father’s chair with her legs tucked under her and Jake curled against her chest.

“But Mama—”

“No.” This time the objection came from Peggy, who’d taken part of the sofa and made space for Steve as he returned. “No fooling, Elizabeth,” she said in what Therese suspected was the firmest tone she could take with her daughter in that moment. “Leave Rindy be.”

She didn’t threaten to separate them, something all of them had done at one point or another on previous occasions. Therese saw a flash of something in Rindy’s eyes, thought it good the warning remained unvoiced.

“Mommy…”

“Be still, you,” Steve said. “Let Rindy rest.”

“I can be still.” Lizzie demonstrated by rolling off of Rindy but snuggling in close to her as Rindy pulled a blanket over her. “See, Rindy? Tell them I can stay.”

“You can stay,” Rindy mumbled, slinging an arm around her. “But no more owls.” She shifted in a way that made sure Carol and Therese stayed within her vision.

“No more owls,” Lizzie repeated, pressing closer to Rindy and sounding very innocent.

Peggy sighed. “I’m very sorry,” she told Carol as Betty and Dugan approached. The living room was a mess of displaced furniture and chairs stolen from the kitchen. Betty ignored those and squeezed herself into a space next to Steve, making a show of walking fingers up his bicep.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Betts. You trying to annoy Dugan or Daisy?”

“Both. Always both, ideally.”

“Daisy?” Carol repeated.

“Margaret. Peggy.” Betty clarified. “Better known as Daisy dear.”

“Shove over, Ange,” Dugan said, resting his big frame gingerly on the arm of the chair. “Our beloveds clearly care nothing for us. Run away with me and we’ll start a new life together.”

“Long as you’re on diaper duty, I’m in,” Angie said, passing Jake over to him. The boy immediately attempted to tear off Dugan’s mustache.

“Daisy?” said Abby, who’d found space with Rose in the overcrowded room. “Your name is Daisy?”

“No. This woman is a lying, deviant criminal,” Peggy replied. “She’s mentally unbalanced,” she added, with Steve acting as a buffer between them.

“Oh honey. Don’t go saying such things, it’ll make me nostalgic for our first date.”

“Poor darling,” Peggy deadpanned. “Who gets to read the bedtime story?”

Sofia, bustling around in the kitchen, said something to herself about the storm, how they’d all have to stay the night. “I may have to toss some of you over to my sister down the street and her terrible hospitality.”

“Oh no ma’am, we’ll manage just fine,” said Dugan as Jake continued to paw at his face. “Won’t we, honey blossom, we’ll make room for everyone. Just means you’ll actually have to spend a night in bed with your husband.”

Betty made a noise at that and continued cuddling up to Steve, while Peggy showed no interest whatsoever.

“So,” Abby said, drawing the word out. “I may regret asking this, my mother always said curiosity was my worst quality—”

“No, she didn’t,” said Carol, resting her chin against Therese’s hair. “That isn’t at all what your mother said your worst quality was.”

“But what happened to Barnes in Belarus?” Abby continued as if there’d been no interruption, giving Carol the finger over Lizzie and Rindy’s heads. “You said that earlier, like it was something.”

Rose snorted, covering her mouth with her hand as Peggy shot her a warning look. "Oh, it was something. That file was everything."

“That file was mostly black.”

“Who do you think blacked it out?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at Rose. "Exactly how much information were you privy to?"

"Enough to know who mixed up skivvies."

Abby looked intrigued. Peggy let out a long, annoyed breath. “The forms, Rose. Must I tell you again about the disclosure forms?”

“I don't think there's anything in the disclosure forms about mixing skivvies."

"Well there ought to be, I might rewrite them. Steve, is there?"

Steve’s brow furrowed. He shook his head "Just details of national or agency security."

"We'll rewrite them. Howard alone makes that necessary."

"So skivvies then," Abby said with amusement, "Was it Barnes and 'Daisy'?"

"God no. He may have aimed, but all he got was dear Maggie's drawers."

Peggy reached around Steve to swat at Betty, "Behave yourself, there are children listening."

“I thought we were going to have a bedtime story,” Rindy mumbled.

"Yes, yes. Well, go on cutie, read away."

Therese’s eyebrows lifted at being addressed that way, but Betty only smiled. Carol made a small noise that Therese felt against her, pulled her tighter. “I’m reading a bedtime story now?”

It seemed absurd after all that’d happened, this lightness. Except there was more to it than that. Angie kept a hand on Jake’s foot as he tried to rip Dugan’s mustache off. Carol and Abby were stone sober, though Therese had heard Sofia offer them something stronger than cider. A crisis far less than this one should’ve had them several drinks in. Steve and Peggy looked relaxed, but their gazes never really left the children.

“Please, Mama?” Rindy lifted her head up, pulled Therese from her thoughts.

Therese took a breath and closed her eyes, listened to Sofia in the kitchen, the crackling of the fire.

Rest between battles.

Therese opened her eyes, opened the book in her lap. “Lay down, Rindy,” she said with a smile, and began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So right around this time last year, I saw a news show about two kids buried by a snowplow. And, my mind being the twisted snake pit it is, I thought, ‘That’s horrible,’ but then I kept thinking. I tried really hard not to, guys. But then it became a thing, and then I needed a reason for the kids to be together at the Martinelli home, minus parents. And then my enabler suggested church, have it be an after church thing that they’ve started with the Martinellis. Well I couldn’t just do that offscreen. I had to set that up and unpack that, especially with Therese’s background in-book. But then, I thought, then I could do my snowstorm hell piece. Except it was pointed out that there was a fair bit of angst in the church story and a break might be called for. Which is how we got the Christmas fic from the kid POV.
> 
> So, have I been waiting an actual year to do this one really specific, really horrible thing? Yeah? Did two other longish stories show up because of my desire to do this one very specific, very horrible thing? Yeah…oops. 
> 
> But, anyway. Horrible thing done, the aftermath will be explored in the next story, will be at least somewhat shorter than this. Obviously I had a bit of a fixation when it comes to this one so comments are extra super specially appreciated. ‘Til next time guys.

**Author's Note:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.


End file.
